


Heaven's Just Begun

by sweetlullabies



Category: One Direction (Band)
Genre: Crushes, Cuddling & Snuggling, Cutesy, Explicit Sexual Content, Fluff, Humor, Light Angst, Love Confessions, M/M, Romantic Gestures, Sexting, damn this is such a long fic and i don't even know what to tag, soooo much cute stuff omg, sort of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-09
Updated: 2017-06-09
Packaged: 2018-11-03 22:46:52
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 35,476
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10976949
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sweetlullabies/pseuds/sweetlullabies
Summary: “Harry, I’m serious,” Liam continued, still holding the rose.  “Louis’ so fucking gone over you, and he’srich.  He could literally be yoursugar daddy, and we wouldn’t have to live like this anymore!”“Are you done?” Harry asked, his words inaudible as he spoke through a mouth stuffed with untoasted bread.  He pointed behind himself, over his shoulder as he backed out of the kitchen, nearing the hallway.  “Because I have to take a shower…”“You’re impossible,” Liam said dejectedly, before throwing the rose back into the bucket and leaving out of the apartment with a grunt.Harry is wholly convinced he's quite literally a sad excuse for a young adult, but this doesn't seem to stop the "boy next door" from developing the world's biggest crush on him.





	Heaven's Just Begun

**Author's Note:**

> i posted two fics at the same time today because they'd both been sitting in my drafts for a while now. one of them (*cough* this one *cough*) is pleasant, and the [other one](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10934115) is painful. feel free to read whichever one you like. you can even choose to be a bit brave and read both. or neither, i'll still love you all the same!
> 
> firstly, before reading this, you better listen to this iconic masterpiece to set the tone for this fic sweetie [x](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uaV4SSLaTs8) (this fic was not inspired by the song, but literally two seconds after writing the entire thing i realized it fit perfectly)
> 
> ummmm there's not much else to say! enjoy!

 

 

“It’s not enough.”

Liam sighed deeply as he ran his hands through his hair, his feet moving quickly in order to reach the refrigerator.  “It’s all I have.”

Harry finally shifted his eyes away from the glass bowl of money on top of the kitchen counter, now fixing them on Liam as the man hurriedly poured himself a glass of orange juice, some of the liquid spilling on the floor.

“It’s _still_ not enough!”

Liam spent a moment taking a huge gulp out of his glass as he blindly attempted to put the juice jug back in the fridge.  He swallowed, wiping his mouth with his sleeve before pulling open one of the drawers in search of his keys.

“Well, guess what, Harry?” Liam started, growing frustrated after he opened numerous kitchen drawers and didn’t find his keys (Harry was genuinely growing sick and tired of that man losing his keys).  “That’s not my problem!  You should’ve saved up more.  You _know_ rent increases little by little every month.”  After a few more seconds of hurried searching, he snatched his keys from where they were dangling from the pantry door handle and rushed past Harry.

Harry gestured sharply at the glass bowl in front of him as Liam flew by, nearly causing Harry’s hair to get blown by the wind of his swift movements.  “I’ve literally been eating cup noodles for two weeks straight!  I gave up the luxury of a McDonald’s cheeseburger so we could make rent!” Harry exclaimed, continuing to watch with wide eyes as Liam swung open the front door.  “I _did_ my part, now cough up some of that leisure money you’re probably stashing.”

“You know what?” Liam snapped, his voice distant as he now stood outside the front door.   He walked back inside the flat with a rose in hand, along with an index card taped to the stem of it as he gave Harry his signature Face of Agitation.  “Here, fucking _fine_ ,” he hissed, reaching his free hand deep into his pocket as he approached Harry again.  He pulled out a few crumpled bills, throwing them at Harry with a groan and a huff.  “Guess no extra spending money for me, then.  Fuck me, right?”  He threw the rose at Harry as well, before moving toward the coat rack in order to grab his sweater.

“Exactly,” Harry replied as he picked up the mess of money from where Liam had thrown them on the floor, making sure to retrieve the rose as well.

Harry didn’t waste a second counting everything up before throwing the money in the glass bowl with the rest of them, and then he took the rose over to the side table in the living room, setting the flower in a metal bucket that had over thirty other dark red roses already rested inside.

He ignored Liam’s displeased expression as he made his way back toward the kitchen, remembering that he’d never started the dishwasher he’d loaded an hour ago.

“You know,” Liam replied, shrugging on his sweater.  “I don’t understand why you won’t just give him a chance.”  He walked up to the bucket Harry had placed the rose in, picking up one of the many flowers and reading the index card attached to it.  “ _You make my heart flutter like a butterfly’s wings,_ ” Liam read, using an obnoxious and mockingly poetic tone.

Harry scrunched his nose as he pressed the button to start the dishwasher, before glancing at the digital clock over the oven, and—holy _shit_ , he literally had to be at work in thirty minutes, and he hadn’t even made himself breakfast yet.  If only he’d actually been productive instead of spending twenty minutes arguing with stubborn, pretentious fucking _Liam_ about simple things, like paying rent and surviving.

Harry refused to attend a ten hour shift on an empty stomach, so he fished the loaf of bread out of the fridge and began to contemplate numerous ways of which he could prepare breakfast out of bread in the quickest way possible.

“Harry, I’m serious,” Liam continued, still holding the rose.  “Louis’ so fucking gone over you, and he’s _rich_.  He could literally be your _sugar daddy_ , and we wouldn’t have to live like this anymore!”

“Are you done?” Harry asked, his words inaudible as he spoke through a mouth stuffed with untoasted bread.  He pointed behind himself, over his shoulder as he backed out of the kitchen, nearing the hallway.  “Because I have to take a shower…”

“You’re impossible,” Liam said dejectedly, before throwing the rose back into the bucket and leaving out of the apartment with a grunt.

 

~*~

 

Harry nearly threw himself into the break room, clocking in with an impressive twenty seconds to spare.

He offered his “hello”’s and “how are you”’s to his coworkers as he made his way toward his locker, although he was certain that all of them shared a silent understanding that they didn’t actually care about those things.  Everyone was there for the paychecks and free cookies, simple as that.

The downside of getting paid ten dollars an hour and having free access to gourmet cookies was the fact that, in addition to the required red collared shirt, Harry also had to wear an elastic headband with a giant chocolate chip cookie attached to the very front of it.  It made him feel foolish, and it even almost caused him to lose his job a few times when childish mall-goers wouldn’t stop taunting him about it.

But, besides all _that_ , Harry was quite thankful for the job he had in the small cookie shop right in the middle of the food court.  The pay was obviously not enough for him to live comfortably, but ten dollars an hour was the best he was going to get considering his work history.

After he’d shamefully secured the headband to his head and made his way toward the work area, the day had pretty much been a breeze from there.  No customers were taking painfully long to make a simple choice, getting angry at him for things he couldn’t control, or asking for oddly flavored cookies from the “secret menu” that he knew nothing about.  Those rotten teenagers that continued to ask for numerous samples of the same cookie were starting to irk him a bit, and he knew it was a only matter of time before he would’ve given them a piece of his mind.

It seemed that the first four hours flew by, and just as he was coming out of the break room after his thirty minutes of rest, his coworker Zayn approached him.

“Your boyfriend is here,” he whispered, patting him on the shoulder as he moved past him in order to prepare a customer’s order.

Harry rolled his eyes as he moved to take his place back at the register, not even bothering to tell Zayn for the hundredth time that Louis was _not_ his fucking boyfriend.

Harry wasn’t shocked to find Louis at the very front of the rather short line, eyes glistening and bright once he’d noticed Harry’s approach.  His hair was neat and brushed back as usual, jaw bearing a shadow of stubble, and he was wearing a tan lemaire jacket.  Harry could tell by the sight of his tie, along with the briefcase he had hanging over his shoulder, that he’d recently been at work, which wasn’t surprising either.

“ _Hi_ ,” Louis practically sang, fixing the cuffs on one of his sleeves.

Harry looked down at the counter as he let out the faintest of sighs.  “Hi.”  He directed his eyes back up toward Louis, determined to just get this part of his day out of the way.  “What brings you here?”

“Oh, I was just getting some food while I’m on my lunch break,” Louis replied happily, eyes scanning over the cookies on display beneath them.

“Well, all we sell are cookies, so I doubt you’ll really find anything that’ll fill you up,” Harry said, keeping his tone as cordial as possible.

Louis laughed, his same old fluffy, light laugh, as though everything Harry said was hilarious.  “I already had lunch.  Just wanted something sweet.”

“In that case, you came to the right place,” Harry replied, grinning as he gestured at the menu and hoped Louis would just _buy_ something already.

“How long’ve you been working?” Louis asked curiously, blue eyes coming back up to meet Harry’s.

“Almost five hours.”

Louis sucked his teeth, his expression growing apologetic.  “That’s horrible.  Why don’t you take a break with me?” Louis asked sweetly, even batting his eyelashes in a way Harry didn’t even know people actually did in real life.  “We can call it a cookie break.”

Harry played with his fingers for a moment, making an attempt to seem like he was actually considering Louis’ offer.  He glanced at his coworkers on either side of him, taking order after order, all while Harry had been standing in front of the same person.

“See, I would love to, but…” Harry started, before blowing air out of his cheeks.  “I’m working.  I can’t take spontaneous breaks like you do.”

“Oh, _c’mon_ ,” Louis urged.  “I’m pretty sure your boss wouldn’t mind if you took a _little_ —“

“Oh, Mr. Ross _would_ mind,” Harry assured him.

“I would mind what?”

Harry turned around at the sound of his boss’ voice, scratching behind his ear and wishing this moment would end.  “You would mind me taking another break, since I already took one, right?  Because that would be unprofessional, right?”  Harry grew frustrated as Mr. Ross, in all his obliviousness and fear of aggressive authority, blinked at Harry.  “ _Please_ say ‘right’, for the love of all that is—“

“That’s perfectly fine with me!” Mr. Ross said as he went to shake hands with Louis over the counter.  “Aren’t you the one that always leaves the generous tips?”

Louis grinned politely as he shook Harry’s boss’ hand, already reaching into his pocket for what was probably a fifty dollar bill.  “Sorry if I’m intruding.  I just felt like Harry needed a break, and I wanted to buy us both cookies so we could sit and enjoy them!”

Mr. Ross glanced at Harry, who looked back at him with dark, displeased eyes, and then back at Louis, a permanent smile upon his lips.  “Anything for our most valued customer.  Go on, Harry.  I don’t mind.”

“You should,” Harry mumbled, making sure it wasn’t loud enough for Louis to hear as he pulled the stupid headband off of his head.

Just as promised, Louis bought each of them three large cookies ( _after_ leaving the heavy tip in the glass jar)—Harry, the strawberry cheesecake flavored ones, and himself, regular chocolate chip.  Although sitting down in the mall food court and avoiding Louis’ googly eyes was the last thing Harry wanted to do, he could admit, eating sweets and abandoning his job wasn’t the worst thing in the world.

They sat across from each other at the tiny table for two, making small talk as dozens of mall-goers continued to eat and converse around them.

“How has your day been so far?” Louis asked, his voice soft and sincere as he picked at his cookie.

“You know…” Harry started, his mouth half full.  “Sneaking cookies into my locker, shaking my fist at kids who think it’s funny to take advantage of the fact that we offer samples…same old, same old.”

Louis chuckled, shyly covering his mouth as Harry allowed his dimples to appear.

Harry felt it was truly a curse, the fact that Louis was so effortlessly charming, able to turn on a switch that could have anyone giving into whatever he asked for.  His overbearing politeness was the main reason Harry hadn’t blatantly rejected him yet, although he knew he should’ve.  Louis was just too _sweet_ , and although Harry sometimes flushed Liam’s toothbrush down the toilet because he loved to watch it twirl, he still had a heart.

“No raise?  Nothing?” Louis asked, eyes genuine as he hung onto Harry’s every uninteresting word.

Harry snickered for half a moment, taking another bite out of his cookie before speaking.  “Only in my dreams.”

Louis laughed again, shaking his head at Harry as he broke off a piece of his cookie and brought it up to his mouth.

“What about you?” Harry asked, gesturing forward.  “How are…things?”

At the question, Louis’ laugh immediately came to an end as he ran one of his hands through his pristine hairdo.  “Work is completely hectic.”

He then went into a monologue about how he was working with so many different clients that he could hardly keep up, and then something about briefing (whatever that is), and then something else about “exposure for the agency”, or…something.  He basically spewed a bunch of words that made absolutely no sense in Harry’s ears, as per usual.  All Harry was sure of was the fact that Louis was the CEO of some big time advertising agency, and pretty much every time the man talked about his job, Harry’s mind went completely blank.  All of it just seemed so stressful, and complex, and time-consuming.  Harry was perfectly fine with his cookies and collared shirt, thank you very much.

Over the months that Harry had known and spoken to Louis, it was pretty clear that Louis was a big deal at the place he worked, although the man never drew attention to it.  It was only when Harry casually brought his name up at a some random bar that a lady actually gasped at the fact that Harry knew him.  He now realized that he probably should’ve built himself a prestigious reputation off of that moment by adding _Yeah I know him.  He’s head over heels for me and leaves a rose with a heartfelt note attached to it at my front door every Sunday_ but now, it was much too late.

“Your job sounds horrible,” Harry commented, a few crumbs falling from his mouth.

Only a hint of offense shown on Louis’ face as he replied.  “It’s not _horrible_ if you look at the big picture.  I get to work with so many passionate people and create amazing campaigns.”

Harry remained thoroughly unimpressed as he quirked an eyebrow up at Louis.

Louis didn’t seem deterred, however, as he grinned lopsidedly at the man in front of him.  “It’s cool, really.  I can show you around some time if you want?  Teach you how everything works.”

Harry chuckled for a moment as he wiped his hands off, dreading the fact that he was now done with his cookies and had to actually go back to work.  “If I still wanted to be taught stuff, I would’ve stayed in school.”

“Feisty Harry, I like it,” Louis replied, nearly beaming with admiration.  “I love it when you get like that.”

Harry had been through _enough_ of this.  He began to scoot his chair back and away from the table as he secured the cookie to his head again.

“It’s about that time for me to get back to work,” Harry announced, trying to remain hard as a rock, even as Louis’ state immediately deflated.  “This was nice, though.”

“It was,” Louis replied, his lips slightly curved downward.  “See you, then.”

Harry gave him a casual salute as he backed away, before turning around and feeling somewhat pumped for five more hours of being on his feet.

“ _Not your boyfriend_ my ass,” Zayn said with a chuckle as Harry opened the gate in order to let himself in.

“Fuck off,” Harry replied as he pulled a pair of gloves out of the compartment.  “When do you clock out?”

“Like, two hours after you.”

“Ugh.  That means I have to wait outside for two whole hours, just so I can get a ride home?” Harry asked, beginning to knead the cookie dough on the pan in front of him.

“I guess,” Zayn replied with a shrug.  “We can drink at yours, blow off some steam.”

Harry rolled his eyes, because there was definitely no “steam” that Zayn needed to “blow off”.  He just didn’t want to pay for his own liquor, and he knew that Harry could never resist those cool brown eyes.

So they ended up going back to Harry’s flat after work, tired and worn out, although still ready to plunge below the influence.  All was dark outside as they reached his apartment, Harry taking an exceptional amount of time to open the bullshit front door that always got stuck.

When they were finally let in, the first thing Harry saw was Liam, hovered over the kitchen counter as he seemed to be eating some type of soup, and he was wearing his boxers that had the pink cupcakes all over it (One of his friends had gotten it for him as a joke, but the man ended up loving it, and Harry kind of did too).

Liam turned around upon hearing the front door open, raising his eyebrows at Harry.  “Harry, you’re finally back—Oh, _Oh!_ Zayn!” he practically yelled with shock, moving quickly in order to hide behind one of the counters and conceal his boxers.  He knocked about five food containers onto the floor with his sudden movements, his eyes growing wide as the sound of plastic crashing against the ground abused all of their eardrums.  “Zayn, I didn’t—I didn’t know you were bringing a guest, Harry.  Should’ve uh…should’ve told me.”

Harry let out a long, exhausted breath before gesturing for Zayn to follow him into the living room.  “I’m bringing a guest, Liam.  Put on some pants.”

Harry watched the flush on Liam’s face gradually spread, and Zayn stood next to him, shaking his head as soft laughs escaped his mouth.

With that, Liam finally stalked away to his room in order to put on some pants and probably scream into his pillow.

Harry and Zayn laid back and watched Seth Rogen movies as they shared several bottles of beer, and by the end of the night, they were sufficiently tipsy and touchy, both having forgotten about the stressful day of labor they’d just endured.

Harry was in the middle of trying to get Zayn’s hair (which he had dyed blond recently (Harry was certain the guy was trying to kill him with his attractiveness)) into a ponytail when Zayn suddenly seemed to remember something.

“Oh yeah,” Zayn started, reaching into his back pocket in order to pull something out.  “I found this while I was wiping down the tables at the end of my shift.  I think…um, it belongs to that guy you’re always…”  He seemed to lose his train of thought as he laughed, Harry laughing right along with him.  “Yeah.”

Harry looked down at what Zayn now had in his hand, and it seemed to be a folded up wad of business papers.  Harry pulled them out of Zayn’s grasp, and it was rather shameful that it took him a full minute of hazily looking through the documents to realize that the name “Louis Tomlinson” was on all of them, along with a bunch of other CEO marketing gibberish.

“He probably accidentally dropped it or something,” Harry said, running a hand through his curls as he slumped on the couch, finally getting out of Zayn’s personal space.  “ _Accidentally_ ,” he added, mostly speaking to himself as he used his fingers to make air quotes.

Zayn punched his knee, a smirk forming on his face.  “You should get it back to him.”

“Why can’t _you_?”

“Why can’t _you_?”

“Because I don’t _want_ to,” Harry whined, shoving the papers back at Zayn.

Zayn stared at Harry for a rather long moment, his eyes slightly sleepy and dazed.  “I don’t get it,” he finally said, slowly shaking his head.

Harry scooted in, propping his elbow up on Zayn’s shoulder as he giggled a little.  “What don’t you get?”

“ _You_ ,” Zayn replied.  “Louis’ sweet, he’s handsome, he’s nice, and he’s fucking rich—he’s literally _powerful_.  What’s _wrong_ with you?”

“Yes,” Harry started, beginning to count the stitches on the shoulder of Zayn’s jacket.  “That’s all I care about in a guy.  His riches and his position of power.  Mhm, that’s exactly who I am.”

Zayn shrugged Harry off of him as he began to laugh again.  “C’mon,” he said, reaching for the abandoned bottle of beer and bringing it to his lips.  He took a long gulp before continuing.  “You like the attention.”

“Nope,” Harry replied, snatching the bottle from Zayn and taking a sip himself.

“You would’ve flat-out told him to leave you alone,” Zayn said.  “But you haven’t.  You little…attention whore, you.”

“ _Hey_ ,” Harry replied with a scoff, shoving Zayn with the aggression of a baby deer.  “I’m not an _attention whore_. I just…I can’t tell him ‘no’.  It’s hard.”

“No it’s not.  See?” Zayn started, lifting up a hand in the air as he braced himself, letting his eyes close gently.  “No.”

Harry burped before bringing the bottle back to his lips again, swallowing another round.  “Yeah, and then his blue eyeballs of evil would get all sad, and he’d frown, and fuck…”  Harry’s mind became clouded for a moment as he stared into space.  Zayn watched him carefully, both of them awfully quiet as they took a moment to think.

Harry’s gaze shifted over to the small table by the couch, where the bucket of roses resided.  It was as though the roses were staring at him—all thirty-something of them.  The bucket was seriously just a few more roses away from overflowing, and Harry figured he needed to make plans to buy an additional one soon.  Maybe he should actually put them in some _water_ as well, because a lot of them were pretty much dead due to Harry’s lack of knowledge on how to properly take care of real flowers.

“I also kinda don’t wanna say no,” Harry admitted, followed by a giggle as Zayn smacked his teeth.  “I might like the attention a little.”

“I know you do,” Zayn laughed, allowing Harry to gracefully fall into his lap.

As Harry stared up at the ceiling, Zayn yawning above him, he allowed his mind to drift back to the day it had all started—the day that Harry had apparently stolen the fuck out of Louis’ heart without even knowing it.

It was around seven or eight months ago, Harry wasn’t sure—but he was _certain_ that the first time he’d seen Louis was on a relatively cool, autumn day.  He’d been making his usual walk from the bus stop to his flat, headphones plugged into his ears as he casually strolled down the sidewalk.

Louis was stopped at a corner, waiting for his opportunity to cross the street, just like any regular person, and Harry, approaching that same corner, came to a stop next to him.  Harry had been a little thrown off, because he’d never seen Louis before, and he was pretty familiar with everyone that lived within a ten mile range, so it became obvious that Louis was new.

Harry’s first thought was obviously, _this guy is extremely handsome_ , _like the kind of handsome you would let put out his cigarette on your ass_ , but he’d suppressed his desires, because he didn’t even know the man.  It was when he noticed that Louis was in need of help as he struggled to hold multiple stacks of paper, his briefcase, an umbrella, and two grocery bags, that Harry became engaged.  When one of Louis’ bags had ripped open, causing everything to spill out, just as the light across the street signaled them to start walking, Harry offered his hand.

“I’ll help you carry these,” he’d said, to which Louis had looked at him for the first time ever.

Louis had shaken his head vigorously, moving to pick up the notepads and memos that were scattered across the ground.  “No—you don’t have to.”

Harry had continued gathering his things anyway, offering Louis a tiny smile as he stood back up.  “I want to.”

And then he’d offered to carry Louis’ things all the way to where he lived (he lived in a _freaking_ penthouse, at the top floor of the building and everything), he cracked a few jokes here and there along the way, and he felt like he might’ve made a pun about grocery bags or something—he couldn’t remember.  Either way, whatever had happened during those fifteen minutes of walking obviously had Louis infatuated.

And that was literally where the story ended.  There wasn’t _more_ to that story, like _after they got to his house they made out_ or _Harry told him it was love at first sight_ , it was just a simple walk to his house, Harry immediately leaving after.  Ever since then, after the first mysterious rose appeared on his front door step, everything had spiraled from there.

Louis had been trying to court him ever since, and at first he was at _least_ subtle about it with the “random” run-ins with Harry at the local grocery store, but then it’d gradually turned into Louis asking him out on proper dates, to which Harry always offered generic excuses.  _I’m washing my car that day, I already have plans that night, I’m allergic to seafood_ —all of those excuses had come in handy at some point.

Harry didn’t _hate_ all of the attention per se, because the roses provided a rather nice aesthetic to his otherwise humdrum apartment.  Although the little notes, written in perfect cursive by Louis, caused him to feel pretty queasy sometimes, he couldn’t deny the fact that it was sweet.

It was endearing, it really was, but Harry didn’t…want all that.  Didn’t want everything that Louis was probably hoping for, which was why he hadn’t flung himself into the man’s embrace.

Zayn budging his legs up a bit caused Harry to shake his head back to life, looking up at the man with confused eyes.

“Just don’t forget to give it to him,” Zayn said, shifting so that Harry would get off of his lap.  Once Harry sat up with a sigh, Zayn pushed himself off of the couch, letting out a yawn in the process.

“Still don’t get why I have to do it,” Harry complained, rubbing at his eyes as he started to feel a bit sleepy.

Zayn rounded the couch as he dragged his feet, making his way toward the hallway.  “You know where he works.”

Harry tried to protest, but he was instead met with Zayn’s annoying “ _la la la_ ”’s as he attempted to drown him out.

“I’m gonna sleep in your bed.  Goodnight,” Zayn said, right before he threw up a peace sign and disappeared into the hallway.

Harry shook his head, mostly to himself as he slumped into the couch, wishing Zayn wasn’t so dismissive and naturally convincing.

 

~*~

 

The next morning, Harry obviously had no choice _but_ to return Louis’ paperwork to him.  Harry was off of work that day, so he had several hours to return it, but he wanted to get it checked off immediately—get the usual awkward part of his day out of the way.

He’d been to Louis’ workplace once before, because someone from the building had ordered gourmet cookies, and Harry was a delivery driver then ( _never_ again).  It was the absolute tallest and most attention-snatching building within miles, with its thousands of stories and futuristic-looking architecture.  Just looking at it always kind of made Harry feel sick with his tiny fear of heights, but other than that, the building was quite a sight.

As soon as he’d taken several heavy breaths in order to recover from the many steps he’d walked upon just to get to the entrance, he approached the door, his face nearly flushed.  Several different adults, mostly clad in suits, pencil skirts, and blazers, were rushing to and fro, as though they didn’t even see Harry as they took phone calls and tapped at their iPads.

Inside the building, it got even worse.  He was met with a swarm of all the different people who worked there, all moving with purpose within the giant vicinity of the lobby.

Harry almost felt like an ant—a _lost_ ant, because here he was, stepping into this humongous building where people handled serious business, and he felt disoriented.  He was fairly certain he’d never felt more out of place than he felt now, surrounded by real _adults_ who were making use of themselves in this demanding, messed up world.  He didn’t even know how to go about finding Louis.

He reached behind himself and shoved Louis’ papers deeper into his back pocket as his eyes surveyed the area.

Far ahead, beyond the moving bodies and ruckus, Harry spotted what looked like a front desk, which was _perfect_.  He made his approach, trying his best to blend in with the people who seemed to know where they were going, although he was pretty sure it wasn’t working.

As he neared the front desk, he saw that there was a guy with brown, fluffy hair sat behind it, square glasses over his eyes and a headset rested in his hair.  He also had a nametag attached to his blazer that read “Niall”, so naturally, Harry guessed that was his name.  It took him an inappropriately long amount of time to acknowledge Harry’s existence once Harry approached him.

He did a double-take, looking up from his computer at Harry.  “What do you want?”

Harry blinked in response, not having been prepared for him to have been so ill-mannered.

“I…um…” he was highly taken aback, partly from the chaotic atmosphere of the building, and also because of this man’s judgmental eyes boring into his skull.

Niall quickly shifted his eyes back to his computer, continuing to type whatever he’d been typing before Harry approached.  “Teenagers aren’t allowed in here.”

 _This_ was what sparked Harry, because yes, he _did_ have a baby face, probably one strand of facial hair at most, and he wasn’t wearing a bland fucking _suit_ like everyone else in there, but he still refused to be called a fucking _teenager_.

Harry’s eyebrows knit together in frustration.  “What—I’m not…I’m fucking _twenty-three!”_

“Then stop acting clueless, and tell me what exactly you walked up here for,” Niall replied, chin now tilted up toward Harry.

“I’m here for _Louis_ ,” Harry said, his fingers starting to curl up just a bit.

The guy shook his head as he blinked at Harry, seemingly over this entire encounter.  “You’ve gotta be more specific.  We have, like, three Louis’s working here.”

“Louis Tomlinson,” Harry replied with a single nod.  “I’m looking for Louis Tomlinson.  Now can you please direct me to him before I explode?”

Niall was shaking his head before Harry could even get through speaking.  “Mr. Tomlinson doesn’t just take random visitors into his office.  You have to set up a date to meet him several days beforehand.  Have a nice day.”

With that, he positioned his focus right back to his computer, typing away and causing the sound of the keys to drive Harry insane.

Harry tapped his knuckles against the desk for as long as it took for it to become annoying, and Niall finally brought his gaze back up with much difficulty.

“Sorry to interrupt your incredibly fun typing thing, but,” Harry started, pulling the papers out from his back pocket.  “I have something I need to return to Louis, and I’d love it if you’d just stop being difficult and comply with me.”

Niall stared at him for a moment that was quite long, a bored look on his face as Harry continued to remain adamant and undeterred.  Then, with a sigh, he rolled his office chair a few feet in order to dial some numbers on the telephone pad.

There was nothing but awkward silence for a moment as Niall positioned his headset so that the mic was in front of his mouth, and then he finally spoke.  “Some guy wants to bring something to you.”

Harry quirked an eyebrow up as he parted his lips, because he most certainly was not _some guy_.  At least not to Louis, thank you very much.

“Yeah, I was thinking that too…” Niall continued, giving Harry a brief side-eye.  “Looks super young…”

“Tell him it’s _Harry_ ,” Harry interrupted, leaning over the desk a bit.

Niall rolled his eyes, but complied nonetheless as he adjusted his glasses.  “Says his name is Harry.”

Within seconds, Niall was hanging up, getting out of his seat, and tiredly motioning for Harry to follow him, so he did exactly that.  He wasn’t afraid to admit it was a little hard to keep up with him as they weaved their way through escalators, clients, and crowded elevators, especially since Niall wasn’t too concerned about making sure Harry was close behind.

When they seemed to have reached the floor Louis was supposedly on, all was relatively quiet.  Compared to all the other floors he’d traveled just to get there, this part of the building was by far the least intimidating, because the halls were almost empty, and all the business seemed to be happening in separate rooms.

Eventually, Niall opened a door at the very end of a large hall, halfheartedly gesturing for Harry to enter.

Harry did as told, not holding back in offering Niall a bitter head nod in the process.  When he actually turned his head in the direction of the _office_ , however, the sourly smug look on his face was smacked clean off.

The thing was, Louis’ office was _huge_.  Harry had passed several offices on the way up there, and although many of them had been grand enough to peak his interest, none of them were as brilliant as this one.  There were sheer, transparent curtains over the tall windows, as well as a decorative, illuminating chandelier that hung from the ceiling (the ceiling was a long, wide, _mirror_ , by the way).  Along with the many exotic looking plants, black suede couches for comfort, and abstract paintings, there was also a life-sized Greek sculpture of some naked woman, which was, in Harry’s opinion, absolutely _awesome_.

Louis was sat behind a large desk that curved around him, and he was just hanging up a phone call as Harry was entering.  It was odd for Harry to see Louis—clueless, innocent little Louis—smack in the middle of everything.  When people had always told Harry Louis was pretty big shit, he’d taken it with a grain of salt, but now, standing there, he was starting to believe them just a bit more.  The man looked much older in this new environment, as opposed to how harmless he appeared when he was approaching Harry at his job.  It even almost intimidated _Harry_ for a moment, but he took a breath, forcing himself to remember that one time Louis had literally called 9-1-1 when Harry had the flu.

Louis clasped his hands over the desk as a warm smile grew on his face, and Harry couldn’t help but offer the exact same in return.

“ _Smiles_ ,” Louis greeted, causing Harry to become overwhelmed with bashfulness.  “Smiles” was sort of Louis’ nickname for him, because it rhymed with Styles and the man adored his dimples.  It was kind of cute, actually…

Harry blinked his eyes as he shook his head back to reality, because no, it was _not_ cute.  It was ridiculous, and Harry was going to have to tell him to stop calling him that one of these days.

Harry brushed his fingertips over his opposite arm as he slowly approached, taking just a few more moments to look around the office.

“Hi…” he practically mumbled, before finally looking at Louis dead-on.  “This place is really nice.”

“Thank you,” Louis replied, eyes beaming.  “I decorated it myself.”

“Awesome,” Harry said, holding gaze with Louis as he started to forget why he was even there.

A “subtle” cough from where Niall was still stood at the door caused Harry to remember.

“Oh—I,” Harry started, reaching into his back pocket.  “You left these at the food court yesterday…I think you dropped it, or something.”

Louis immediately sprung out of his seat, rounding the desk as he retrieved the papers from Harry.  Harry ignored how perfectly the navy blue suit fit him, how it clung to his body at all the right places, how the trousers were cuffed just enough to expose his ankles...

“Thank you so much, god,” Louis replied, running a hand through his hair as he held the documents.  “I’ve been going mad looking for these.”  He leaned against his desk exhaustedly, flipping through them with serious, concentrated eyes, and he looked like an actual grown _man_.

Okay, Harry was aware that he _was_ a grown man, but the realization struck him hard as he stood there and watched Louis.  He couldn’t help but wonder what a well-established, successful guy was doing pursuing a guy like him.

Once Louis brought his eyes away from the papers and up to Harry, his aura swiftly changed, and he went back to the warm, lovesick Louis that Harry had grown used to.

“Thank you,” Louis repeated, setting the papers to the side.  “Really.”

“No problem,” Harry replied.

There was literally nothing else Harry had come there for, so he was more than ready to turn around and be on his way.  “Well, I guess I’ll…see you,” Harry started, already taking slow steps back.

Louis, of course, couldn’t let that happen.

“How about lunch?” Louis asked, taking one, desperate step forward.  “I…I know you aren’t working, because you aren’t wearing your working clothes, and you almost never work on Mondays, so…how ‘bout it?”

Harry scratched at the side of his neck for a bit, trying to figure out a way to get out of this one.  Maybe he needed to, uh…count his cats.  Yeah.  That’d be a good one.  He couldn’t go out for lunch because he had the extremely urgent duty of counting his cats, all zero of them.

As if Louis sensed that Harry was about to turn down his offer, he quickly spoke again.  “We _all_ can go.  You, me, Niall.  It doesn’t have to just be the two of us.”

Louis must’ve been reading his mind, because the main problem with going to lunch with Louis would’ve been the fact that it would’ve _only_ been them two, Louis making dreamy eyes at him over the menu and discreetly attempting to hook their ankles.  He needed something to turn his attention to once any of these things happened, and a third person would fulfill that position perfectly.  Harry would’ve liked if the third person wasn’t this Niall guy, but he was going to take what he could get.  An actual _lunch_ that didn’t consist of shitty microwave food and an energy drink was very much what he needed.

“Sir…” Niall started, causing Harry to turn around.  “I’d love to, but I’d rather…I dunno… _not_ get fired.”

“Horan, I’m quite literally the only person that can fire you.”

“Nope, you and…” Niall took a moment to count off on his fingers as he thought.  “Three other people.”

Louis smacked his teeth as he seemed to grow frustrated, which, for Harry, was a bit exciting.  “I’ll tell them that I gave you permission.”

Niall still appeared to be on the fence about it as he looked at his shoes, and Harry was starting to seriously wonder what this guy’s problem was.  Did he not enjoy happiness, or something?

Louis took slow steps around his desk as he dragged the tips of his fingers along the surface.  “I also haven’t forgotten about that raise you asked me for a couple of weeks ago…” he said, his voice low and teasing at the same time.  “It could very well be a reality if you’d do this one thing for me.”

Harry glanced back and forth between both of them, eating all of this up.

Niall rolled his eyes before finally giving in.  “Fine, I’ll go.

Sure enough, about half an hour later, Harry found himself sat outside, in front of a posh diner on the arrogant side of town.

Despite all the many complex, obnoxious looking meals that were displayed across the menu, Harry had ordered himself a regular pepperoni pizza, which he felt was a good choice.  Like an idiot, he’d ignored when Louis sneakily whispered something to the waiter right before he took their menus.  He should’ve seen what was coming next.

When all of their orders finally arrived, a peculiar plate was set in front of Harry.  He couldn’t complain, because it was exactly what he’d ordered—a pepperoni pizza.  He would’ve preferred for it to have been _circular_ rather than _heart-shaped_ , however.

“I’m guessing you offered to pay extra for this,” Harry commented, right before pulling a slice away and messing up the perfect shape of the heart.

Louis shrugged, blowing on his bowl of…whatever it was (custard, or something?) as he looked at Harry.  “Eh, a few dollars doesn’t trouble me.”

“I’m assuming you’re paying for me too,” Niall chimed in, leaning an elbow on the table.

Louis nodded wholeheartedly, dipping his spoon into his mystery pudding.  “Of course.  Free food for all.”

“Works perfectly for me,” Harry said with a grin, his lips shiny with pizza grease.

Niall dug his fork into his salad as he fixed his eyes on Harry, but Harry remained unbothered, because over the mere hour of knowing him, Harry had grown accustomed to his shrewd, judgmental stares.

“What is your career?” he asked bluntly, catching Harry off guard as he stared dumbfoundedly, his cheeks stuffed with cheese.

“Hmm?” Harry asked, chewing slowly as he swallowed.

“Your _career_?” Niall continued.  “Like, what you’re doing to contribute to society?  Or maybe you are as young as I thought, and you’re still in school.”

Harry shook his head amusedly as he wiped his hands off with a napkin.  “No, no.  I’m a college dropout.  I work at that cookie place in the mall, you’ve probably heard of it.”

“I haven’t,” Niall replied boredly.

“I didn’t even…” Harry started, already growing exhausted as he shook his head.  “Anyway, _Louis_.  How has your day been?  Good day with the clients and the pitches and all that?”

“To be honest, it was pretty stressful before you showed up,” Louis replied.  “You practically saved the day.  I had to cancel two of my meetings that were scheduled for the morning.”

Harry shook his head.  “Oh.  That has to suck.”

“It does,” Louis replied, absolutely loving the fact that Harry was attempting to relate to him.

“So, Harry,” Niall started, and Harry did his best not to noticeably groan as he turned his attention back to him.  “Do you actually…like what you’re doing?  Like, your job?”

Harry shrugged as a lopsided grin formed on his lips.  “I mean, it’s better than what you’re doing.  I don’t have to suck my boss’ dick to get a raise.”

While Niall quickly took hard offense to that statement, Louis’ shoulders shook as pleasant laughs bursted from between his lips.  Harry was pleased with Louis’ response to his half hearted zinger, and he was starting to feel that this lunch-thingy was going better than he thought it would’ve.

“Harry, you are so funny,” Louis laughed, proceeding to cover his shaking mouth with _both_ hands.  He shook his head before letting his hands fall back down to rest in his lap.  “I can assure you, _none_ of that goes on at the agency.”

“Pretty sure that would be against health regulations, right?” Harry asked, before taking a sip of his Coke.

Louis giggled some more.  “I’m certain it would.”

 

~*~

 

Harry was always at his worst whenever that certain _day_ came around where he and Liam had to conjure up enough money to pay rent.  It was truly the most horrid day of the month, and it seemed to creep up on Harry every time his days were just beginning to grow pleasant.

The day snuck up on him when he’d least expected it—he was thoroughly enjoying one of his days off, and he’d actually gotten the energy to make himself _eggs_ for breakfast.  He had been sipping orange juice from his mug when he decided to glance at the calendar attached to the fridge.

He’d dragged Liam out of bed immediately after realizing that rent was due, and he and the man spent way too much time digging up all of their money in order to meet the requirement.  Harry was just grateful that the complex he lived in accepted cash, because getting a bank account was simply something he couldn’t do, due to the fact that he didn’t trust banks.

Afterward, Liam had gone off to intern at his dumb medical school residency bullshit that Harry never cared to understand, and now Harry was alone, forced to count up all the money by himself and probably cry when he realized it wasn’t enough.

He’d spent several hours doing (or, procrastinating on doing) just that, and by the time Liam got back five hours later, he’d had some splendid news for him.

“Seventy dollars short,” Harry greeted, just as Liam entered through the front door, three roses in his hand.

“Can you not let these things pile up at our front door?” Liam asked, throwing the roses onto the counter top as he took a seat behind it.  “And I don’t have any more money.  This time I’m serious.”

“ _I’m_ serious too,” Harry replied, coming over to rest his arms on top of the counter.  “Serious about not getting _evicted_.”

“What have you been _doing_ with your money?” Liam asked.

“What have _you_ been doing?” Harry asked incredulously.  “Don’t try to pin this on me when you literally purchased a thirty dollar walnut face mask two weeks ago.”

Liam put a finger up in the air.  “It was _coconut_.  And I _needed_ it.  I’ve been breaking out like crazy ever since I started residency.”

Harry reached out, smoothing a hand down the side of Liam’s (rather soft) face as he fixed an apologetic look on him.  “Your poor, _poor_ face.  How _ever_ will we live with your acne?”

Liam shrugged him off.  “Shut up.”

“We could just sell pictures of your clear face to people on the street, and maybe we’ll make some money,” Harry sarcastically suggested, using an enthusiastic tone of voice.

“Fuck off.”

“Sell your story to the _newspaper_!” Harry continued, positioning his hands out in front of him as he envisioned it.  “ _Local man clears his face up with coconut face mask—“_

“ _Hey_ ,” Liam interrupted, bringing Harry to stop taunting him.  Liam’s eyes were now rested upon the roses laid across the counter, a contemplative look behind them as he clearly began to ponder something.

“What…?” Harry asked, lowering his hands.

Liam gestured at the abandoned flowers, delicate as they remained strewn upon the counter.  “These are nice roses.  And they’re _real_.  You don’t want them—you don’t even care enough to _pick them up_ —so, why don’t you try selling them to some lonely, hopelessly romantic sap?”

Harry thought for a moment, biting down on his bottom lip as he looked at the roses as well.

It wasn’t a _bad_ idea, because the roses were obviously expensive to begin with.  All he had to do was go door to door in hopes that someone would buy them from him.  He was acquainted with most of the people in the neighborhood anyway, so he was sure it wasn’t going to be _too_ hard.

 

~*~

 

It was _extremely_ hard.

Door after door was slammed in Harry’s face as he made his way from residence to residence, and he was growing quite offended, because he _knew_ these people.  Sure, he accidentally lost Ms. Johnson’s dog that one day she told him to dog-sit, or he never called that one guy back after he’d gone on a date with him because of a Valentine's Day discount, but those things didn’t need to be held over his head _forever_.

Exhaustion started to grow within Harry as he made his way down the sidewalk, the sun beaming down on him as he continued to hold the bucket of roses in his arms.  He’d been at this for almost an hour, and he had found absolutely no luck.

The more he walked, each rose shimmering beautifully in the bucket, no matter how alive or dead, he began to feel that his neighbors didn’t _deserve_ the roses anyway.  Harry had gotten these roses because Louis _liked_ him, and Harry didn’t _like_ those people.

Harry’s footsteps actually came to a full stop the more he thought about it, because these people really _didn’t_ deserve the roses.  They were bought just for Harry, so that was who they were going to belong to for quite a while.  He turned around on his heel in order to start back toward where he lived, thinking about how no one else could have the roses because they were _special_ , and they were _his_.

“No one appreciates me,” Harry huffed, the bucket starting to grow a little heavier in his arms.  “So no one gets to appreciate all this sweetness.  It’s all for me,” he continued, hoisting the bucket up so it pressed against his chest.  “All mine.”

Harry was dead set on just going back home, ignoring Liam’s complaints, and finding another way to get seventy dollars in just a few hours, but he was sidetracked when he came across something on his journey—or, more specifically, _someone_.

Louis was jogging in the opposite direction, and Harry hadn’t even realized it was him until the last second.  Harry had known that Louis went on morning jogs sometimes, but he still hadn’t been prepared to run into him.

“Louis?” Harry asked, the man jogging up, seemingly not having noticed Harry either as he came to a slow stop, pulling out his ear buds.

He was wearing a turquoise tracksuit that would’ve looked ridiculous on literally anyone else, but for some reason, complimented him nicely.

“’Sup Smiles,” he greeted, a genuine smile forming on his face.  It immediately became replaced, however, when he shifted his gaze down just a bit and saw the bucket of roses Harry was holding.

Harry completely froze, not even knowing how to go about explaining any of this as Louis stared blankly at them.

“What are you…doing with those?” Louis asked, clearly trying to keep his tone as nice as possible.

“Oh.  These?” Harry asked, looking down at the obvious giant bucket in his hands.  “I was…”

He took a moment to think of what he was going to say, because Louis’ face was falling drastically.  The man was probably thinking he’d been on his way to throw them out or something, and Harry couldn’t bear to look at those tragic, solemn eyes for even another _second_ —

“I was going to buy a vase for them,” Harry replied.

Just like that, the light was brought back to Louis’ eyes as his lips curved upward.  “Really?”

Harry nodded as he tapped at the bucket.  “Yep.  Figured I shouldn’t be keeping them in this rusty old thing.”

“Awww, _Harry_ ,” Louis cooed, stepping forward to give him a hug (which he couldn’t return, due to hauling a giant ass flower bucket in his arms).  “That is so sweet of you."

“Ah, it’s nothing,” Harry replied, trying his best to hug Louis with one arm.  “Had to bring them along with me so I could make sure the vase fit all of them.”

“Amazing,” Louis said, entirely filled with glee as he stepped back from Harry.  “I wish I could go with you to pick out a vase, but I have tons of work to do.  I know this place that sells really nice ones, though. ”

“Oh, I’m sure I can find one that’s good enough,” Harry replied, trying not to squint at the brightness of Louis’ permanent smile.

Louis stepped into Harry’s space again, teasingly punching him in the arm with both fists as he grinned.  “I’ll catch you later then,” he said, letting one of his hands gently slide down Harry’s arm before he let him go.

Then he was on his way, and Harry was left standing there, wondering what the fuck was going on.

 

~*~

 

“So.  I told you to go out.  And sell these roses,” Liam started, his voice terrifyingly calm.  “And instead, you went out and spent _more_ money.  By buying a fancy vase.”

They were both on their knees in the living room, situated in front of the table where the bucket of roses once resided.  Now, instead of a bucket, the roses were rested in a curvy glass vase as they stood in water, much more pleasing to the eyes than they had been before.

“Well…” Harry started, rubbing his sweaty hands down his thighs.  “They look prettier now.”

Liam finally turned his face away from the roses and toward Harry, but Harry kept his eyes straight forward as he swallowed, not wanting to face it all.

“I hate you,” Liam said matter-of-factly.

“Right now, I agree with you,” Harry said with a sigh.  He felt his phone vibrate in his back pocket, so he dug his hand in there in order to pull it out.

“No, I don’t think you understand,” Liam continued, positioning his body to fully face Harry.  “You bring me _so_ much emotional stress.”

Harry tried his best to tune out Liam as he read a text from Zayn, the man letting him know that he was on his way.  That text, along with Liam continuing to squawk in his ear about how much he hated him, gave Harry a pleasant idea.

“Living with you, is like living with a wife I divorced forty years ago,” Liam continued, veins starting to appear on the sides of his head.

“Hey, _hey_ ,” Harry started, attempting to calm Liam down as the man seemed to be boiling over.  Liam didn’t get _too_ angry often, but when he did, it was _bad_.  If there were knives around when Liam was throwing a tantrum, everyone had to duck.

“What?” Liam asked.  “What could you _possibly_ say right now to make this better?”

Harry reached an arm out to curve around Liam’s shoulder, pulling him in.  “How about…instead of stressing ourselves out over things we have no control over…screaming at each other…being overall annoying, we try to forget about all of this, and just chill out?”

Liam was clearly against the proposal as he tried to shove Harry away, but Harry kept him in place as he nuzzled his head into the crook of Liam’s neck.  “You remember those animal pajamas we bought last summer?”

Liam nodded.  “Never to be worn again, since we look absolutely ridiculous in them.  What were we thinking?”

Harry lifted his head to look Liam in the eye, his eyebrows furrowed.  “They’re _cute_.  Especially yours, with the lion fur hoodie, and the tail…”

It was obvious that Liam tried to remain unbreakable, but Harry knew that as long as he fixed his big green eyes on him and occasionally flashed a dimple or two, Liam would give in.

Liam shook his head as he started to crack.  “What about them?”

“Let’s put them on,” Harry said enthusiastically.  “It’ll make us laugh and forget about all this.  We can watch Pixar movies until our electricity goes out, and when that happens, we’ll just laugh some more.  It’ll be fun.”

“You can’t just laugh everything off—“

“ _C’mon_ , Liam,” Harry started, smoothening his hand across Liam’s shoulder.  “It’ll be fun.”

After several seconds of Liam doing some hard contemplating in his mind, Harry continuing to touch at him and bury his head in his neck (these were gestures he’d realized long ago got _anyone_ to do _anything_ for him.  It was as though people forgot who they were once Harry started absentmindedly trailing his hands across their chest, their shoulders, arms…anywhere), the man finally surrendered himself to Harry.

“I guess,” Liam replied, already moving to stand on his feet.

“Yay!” Harry said with a laugh, getting up as well.

“It’ll probably take me centuries to find,” Liam muttered as he began to move toward his bedroom.

Harry stood there, the tips of his fingers pressed together as he waited to hear the sound of Liam’s bedroom door opening.

“And…” Harry started, leaning forward until he heard that sweet sound of the door closing.  “There we go.”  He threw himself on the living room couch, picking up the remote and turning on the television.

Only ten minutes passed before Zayn texted that he was at the door (he didn’t like ringing doorbells, bless his attractive heart), and Harry got up from the couch in order to let him in as quietly as he could.

“Why are you sneaking me in?” Zayn whispered, following Harry to the living room.

Harry simply put a finger over his lips, giggling as they both settled into the couch.

Zayn remained thoroughly confused as Harry continued to shush him.

They sat in amused silence, watching whatever was on the television as Harry anticipated the grand moment.

“Harry, I think mine looks kinda small on me now,” Liam started as he exited the hallway.

Harry turned around, peeking his head over the couch as he looked at Liam.  He tried his absolute _best_ at holding back a giggle, but Liam was literally wearing the furry lion hoodie over his _head_ , and he looked like an overgrown baby.  “It _is_ quite tight actually.  Especially around your bum.”

Liam sighed as he attempted to look at his own butt.

“Isn’t that right, Zayn?” Harry asked, prompting Zayn to sit up from where he was reclined on the couch to look at Liam as well.

Liam immediately flushed from head to toe as his lips parted, and Harry could’ve even sworn his tail shook a little bit.

“ _Zayn?”_ Liam started, his mouth opening and closing frantically as he tried to hide himself, but failed tremendously.  “Um—hi…didn’t know you were going to be here.”

Zayn waved a lazy hand at him as he chuckled, watching Liam back into the hallway once again, his face a rosy red.

“I’ve been here for a while,” Zayn replied.

Only Liam’s upper body was poking out of the hallway now, and Harry was seriously about to pass out from all the laughter he was attempting to suppress.

“How’s your, uh…day?” Liam asked, as though having a conversation hidden behind a wall was a casual thing to do.

Zayn nodded halfheartedly, and Harry could tell by the grin on his face that he was loving this just as much as Harry was.  “Better now.”

“Fuck,” Liam breathed, pulling his hoodie over his head so that his eyes were covered.  He said no other words before disappearing back into the hallway—except for when he felt the need to declare his revenge to Harry.  “I’ll get you back for this Harry!  I’ll _get_ you!” Liam yelled, his voice distant from where he was pushing his bedroom door open.

At this, both Harry and Zayn exploded with laughter, and Harry was proud of the fact that he’d led Liam to, quite literally, walk right into that one.

Once the laughter died down, both he and Zayn became fully engaged in a night of lazy nothingness.  This was usually how their days went when they were both off of work, and Harry was grateful for nights like these, where he could actually take pride in not having done anything productive that day.

“Can you cover my shift tomorrow?” Zayn asked at some point in the night, digging a fork into his cup noodles.

Zayn, of course, already knew the answer was going to be yes, but Harry still wasted his energy on groaning anyway.  “ _Why_?”

Zayn finished slurping up his noodles before replying.  “Because I’m sick,” he replied, proceeding to let out a fake and badly executed cough.

Harry sighed as he twirled noodles around his fork.  “Ugh.  Fine.”  He shifted on the couch in order to cross his legs over Zayn’s lap, feeling sufficiently comfortable once he succeeded in doing so.

“I’ve noticed something,” Zayn said.

“And that something is…”

“You haven’t gotten a good lay in a while,” Zayn said casually, as though it wasn’t the single most offensive thing anyone could’ve said to Harry _ever_.

Harry’s lips parted in disbelief as he sat up.  “ _What_?  I—how could you even _say_ that?”

Zayn just smirked his usual, nonchalant smirk as Harry remained highly offended.  He then glanced down at his lap, and then back up at Harry.  “For one, you’re really touchy.  And two, you’ve been pretty cranky lately.”

Harry hastily shuffled to get his legs off of Zayn’s lap as he gave him a pointed look.  “I’m a touchy person.  That’s just who I am, okay?  And I have _not_ been cranky.”

“Right,” Zayn replied with a shake of his head.  “And when was the last time you even _talked_ about a recent hook up you had?”

Harry lifted his fork in the air in order to shut Zayn up.  “I literally _just_ had one—that guy, you remember?  In the bathroom after that pride parade?”

“Harry.”

Harry quirked his eyebrows, ready to listen to whatever Zayn had to say.

“That was six months ago.”

Harry grew frustrated as he let his fork drop into his cup, causing a small splatter of soup to get on his shirt.  “No it _wasn’t_.  It was like, last month.  Stop telling lies.”

Zayn did nothing but laugh, apparently finding it so hilarious that Harry was _this_ pathetic.  The more he laughed, the more Harry’s mind started to connect certain dots to certain time frames and…Zayn was right.  That _was_ six months ago.

“Just face it, Harry,” Zayn said.  “You’re miserable.”

“I am _not_.”

Zayn shifted his attention over to the vase of flowers next to the couch, his chuckles starting to ease a bit.  His interest seemed to be sufficiently diverted in a matter of seconds.  “You upgraded from a bucket to a vase?”

Harry offered no answer, instead choosing to continue his stubborn episode of silence.

“Wow, you really _are_ miserable.  And lonely.”

Harry tried his best not to let the man’s words affect him, because they weren’t true.  Sure, Harry hadn’t hooked up with anyone in _six months_ , but he was doing just fine.  It was probably because he simply didn’t have time for it.  And he _definitely_ wasn’t lonely.  What the fuck did moving roses from a bucket to a vase have to do with _loneliness_?

Harry convinced himself that he was perfectly fine, even as Zayn was leaving his apartment to go home.  He immediately sunk back into his couch after showing Zayn out, intent on distracting himself from all of this bullshit and watching some television.

After nearly growing a stiffy from watching Jesse Williams on _Grey’s Anatomy_ , he came to terms with the fact that…maybe he was a bit miserable.

Damn it.

He didn’t let this newfound misery bother him however—in fact, he chose to ignore it.  He went about his completely normal week as he worked for several days straight, and he felt that as long as he was making money and actually managing to survive every day, there was nothing he could genuinely be miserable about.

It was one day at work, while he was engaging with a female customer, that he began to realize just how oblivious he’d become.

He and this girl had been talking back and forth over the counter for quite some time now, because she seemed to be quite interested in the many flavors of cookies they had to offer.  Like a clueless puppy, Harry continued to respond to her with blank eyes and straight-forward replies, completely oblivious to the fact that she’d been actively flirting with him until she said her next few words.

“I might want the raspberry…” she said at some point, dragging her fingers along the glass as she brought her gaze back up from the display to look at Harry through her eyelashes.

“Perfect,” Harry responded with a grin, joining his hands together.  “It’s really sweet.”

“Is it as sweet as you?” she asked, her voice raising an octave as the whites of her teeth came out of hiding.

It was _then_ that Harry finally became aware of the reason he’d been standing in front of this lady at the register for so long, why she seemed to be a little _too_ interested in all of the flavors, and why she was subtly pressed against the counter, almost too close for it to still be considered appropriate.

Harry snapped one of his fingers as he chuckled at himself, and the woman began to giggle as well, although Harry was pretty certain she had no idea of what was funny.

“Oh,” Harry laughed.  “You’re flirting with me.”

Now she rolled her eyes with a disguised fondness, even reaching a hand over the threshold in order to lightly shove at his right shoulder.  “Thought I’d have to be doing this _forever_.”

He might not have had a good pull in several months, but Harry still had _game_ , okay?  Zayn could shut the entire fuck up now.

“You have absolutely no idea how many abnormally enthusiastic customers I get in a day,” Harry replied, taking the time to run his fingers through his hair, brushing it back as he fully immersed himself into this flirtatious encounter.

“Well, it makes sense, because you’re cute.”

“I’m surprised you still think that, even with this obnoxious cookie attempting to overshadow my beautiful face,” Harry said, tilting his head upward toward the elastic headband and completely reveling in the girl’s laughing episode.  Confidence was starting to make its way into all the parts of Harry’s being in a way it hadn’t done in quite a while.  This was his chance, and he damn sure was _not_ going to mess it up.

He wasted no time in taking a neatly folded napkin away from the stack on the counter and proceeding to jot down his number onto it with the pen from the register.  “You know, I’m off on Saturday, if you wanna do anyth—“

“ _Hi_ ,” came Louis’ voice, seeming to emerge from thin air as he came into view.

Harry’s eyes widened with alarm as he now watched the man come to stand in front of the register, a brown paper bag held in his hand as he beamed at Harry.

The woman he’d been talking to was completely disregarded as Louis remained right next to her, as though she weren’t even there.  The irritated look on her face made it clear that she wasn’t too happy about this, but of course, Louis didn’t care.

“Hey,” Harry replied, looking down at his shoes for half a second before bringing his eyes back up to Louis.

Louis now took a moment to turn to the girl next to him, his face falling half an inch.  “Oh, I’m sorry.  I didn’t know you were still ordering—“

“Oh, I wasn’t,” she replied, a grin slowly spreading across her cheeks that lacked authenticity.

“Perfect,” Louis said, turning back to Harry as he held the paper bag out toward him.  “Just wanted to bring you a little something for lunch.  Zayn told me you never pack anything for your break.”

Harry took it from him with a half-smile, setting it aside and becoming certain that his prior plans with this girl had been demolished.

“Thank you, Louis,” Harry said, his teeth only slightly gritted as the words came out.  He fixed his gaze back upon the woman he’d been talking to, not surprised to find her aura completely flattened.  “This is Louis.  My friend.  Platonic friend.  Louis.”

She nodded slowly, although Harry could tell she was all but convinced.  “Ah.”

“You have something on your cheek,” Louis said suddenly, bringing Harry to drag his solemn gaze back to him.  Louis reached out, gently smoothing his thumb down the side of Harry’s face.

Harry blinked at him boredly, his lips only tilted down slightly as he fought against full-on frowning.

“ _Oh_ , it’s just your dimple,” Louis said delightedly, giving Harry’s cheek one last pinch as he began to laugh.

Harry was dangerously close to shoving him into the glass display box (he wasn’t a huge guy, he would definitely fit) and locking away the key.

Harry offered him the best grin he could, attempting to hide the gallons and gallons of annoyance the man was starting to bring about from inside of him.  “Thanks.”

“I have to go now, though,” Louis said sadly, hoisting his briefcase further up his shoulder.  “Practically had to run here to get that to you.”

“How will I have ever survived without it.”

“No idea,” Louis replied amusedly, reaching out to pat Harry’s cheek one more time before finally preparing to depart.  “See you, Harry.”  And then he left, practically waltzing away with glee as though he hadn’t just sabotaged Harry’s efforts at finally getting some action after a six month drought.

He watched as the girl released a tired breath, as though this was something she’d been through before.  With one more tap against the glass, her feet began to slowly retreat.  “I’ll catch you later, ‘kay?”  Her tone of voice made it clear that they definitely weren’t going to catch each other later, at any point in time, and Harry was about two seconds from whimpering a useless _Call me?_

She was gone, her back turned as she dispersed amongst the crowd of mall-goers, probably already making plans to forget about Harry altogether.

Little had Harry known, she’d actually _taken_ the napkin that Harry’d written his number on, and he didn’t find out until Saturday, when she called him.

He _hadn’t_ completely ruined his chances after all.

So it was now a warm, Saturday night, the neighbor that lived above him wasn’t blasting EDM for once, and Harry was pretty sure he was getting laid soon.  All was pleasant.

Harry had even forcefully gotten Liam out of the house, claiming that he’d seen a raccoon outside (the man had a weird fascination with nocturnal animals, um) and proceeding to the lock the front door before he could come back in.  Two hours had passed since Liam had banged at the door and demanded to be let back in, so Harry was sure the man had now discovered some way to make use of himself outside of the apartment.

He and this woman, whose name he had now come to learn was Lahela (she was apparently _Hawaiian_ —how awesome was that?)  were making small talk as they teased each other over the music that Harry had playing at low volume on the stereo.  Was it a bit cheesy?  Yes, but he hadn’t done this in a while, so he’d forgotten how exactly he was supposed to go about all of it.

At some point they were sat on the couch, sipping tea that Harry had made, and Harry was pretty sure it was about to happen.  They were giggling and flirting with each other, and they were gradually growing closer to one another, her bare foot beginning to brush against his thigh, and _take that, Zayn, you fucking—_

There were a few knocks at his door.  Gentle, cordial knocks that definitely weren’t Liam’s, so naturally, they procured Harry’s attention.  He was now more concerned about who the hell was softly tapping at his door at ten p.m. than he was about getting intimate with this girl.

“Hold on,” Harry said with a huff, standing up from the couch.  He definitely heard Lahela’s deep sigh as he approached the door, reaching for the handle and twisting it.  “Probably just some religious bloke, trying to—“

His sentence was put to an immediate end when his eyes were met with Liam’s, which were now sufficiently smug.  Next to Liam was Louis, dressed in a coral sweater with a navy blue collar poking out from underneath, along with the usual, dressy slacks he wore on a daily basis.  Most of everything about Louis at the moment was normal, except for the fact that he wasn’t standing as straight as he normally did, and his hair was a bit disheveled, and his eyes were unfocused—and oh yeah, he was at Harry’s front door with Liam smack in the middle of the night, for some reason.

“What is this?” Harry asked, attempting to keep the frustration out of his voice.

Liam just grinned as he gestured at Louis, and it was then that Harry realized Liam was holding him up with one arm. “Well…after my roommate kicked me out onto the streets, I had no option but to go out and find something to do.”

Harry crossed his arms, anger building within him for every second it took Liam’s dramatic ass to get to the point, because, if the man hadn’t noticed, he literally had a woman, sat on the couch right behind him.

“So I went to the bar for a good time,” Liam continued, the prominence of his grin starting to irk every part of Harry.  “And look who I stumbled upon?  Louis, drunk beyond belief, nearly falling over tables, completely trashed.”

Harry took a moment to look at Louis again, and all the man did was laugh, leaning more of his weight onto Liam as his shoulders shook lazily.  “I didn’t…I’m not falling over tables, I,” Louis started, his words so ran-together they couldn’t have even been considered English anymore.  “I drank tables.  Wait…that came out wrong.”  He giggled some more into his hands, just like he did when he was _sober_.  “I drank one thing of gin.”  He even reached out a pinky finger in order to lock it around Liam’s.  “Porky promise.”

Liam raised his eyebrows in response, making a pointed look at Harry, as though there was something _enjoyable_ about all of this.  Louis was fucked up to a point where he wasn’t even a shred of his actual self, and Liam thought this was _funny_?

“See?  I couldn’t leave him to fend for himself,” Liam said.

Harry no longer held back his rage as he finally allowed his voice to get as vicious as he was feeling inside.  “So you brought him _here_?”

“Yep, he’s all yours,” Liam said, nudging Louis forward a bit.

Louis had already begun reaching for Harry’s t-shirt, and he brought the material up to his cheek and nuzzled his face into it.  “My cotton ball…you’re so soft.”

Harry sucked in a long breath through gritted teeth.  “Liam—“

“What’s going on?” he heard from close behind him, and he turned around to find—oh right, Lahela, appearing highly impatient as she crossed her arms.  Once she noticed this drunken man that was latched onto his shirt and remembered who he was, she quickly turned around in order to grab her purse from the couch.

“I’m out of here,” she said with a huff.

Harry sighed as she continued to get herself prepared to leave.  “ _Wait_ —don’t leave,” Harry plead tiredly, even as she shoved past him and out of his front door.  “Lahela—call me _please_ …fuck,” he muttered, accepting the fact that it was too late.

Louis took a step back, locking eyes with Harry as he continued to fist his shirt.  “ _Lahela_.  Well Lahela to you too,” he said teasingly.

“It’s not a phrase,” Harry said, prying Louis’ hands off of him as Liam began to snicker.

Liam stuffed his hands in his pockets as he tried to casually make his way past them and toward the hallway.  “I told you I’d get my revenge, so…I’m off to bed—“

That _definitely_ wasn’t going to happen.  Not without Harry murdering him first.  Harry wasted no time in grabbing Liam by the collar of his jacket, which resulted in Liam shoving him, which resulted in Harry shoving him back with more aggression, which resulted in the both of them wholeheartedly wrestling over the living room floor, which was something that they did from time to time.

Through all of it—through the chokeholds, and Liam crying “no _scratching_!”, and Harry kicking his feet to get away, Louis continued to giggle, his drunken laughs beginning to sound like constant knives being stabbed into Harry’s ears.

“Little kittens you are…” Louis said at some point, which caused both of them to stop clawing at each other as they blinked up at him.  He was still stood up, his smile great and big as he gestured at them.  “Fighting kittens.”

Harry rolled his eyes and groaned before violently shoving Liam off of him.  “We need to get you some water, or something,” Harry said as he stood up, offering his hand to Liam.  Liam winced as he got up as well, because Harry had obviously won the fight, and the poor man couldn’t take all the pain.

“I’ll leave,” Liam said defeatedly, and Harry didn’t even get to stop him before Louis was speaking again.

“Water.  Water.  Waterrr,” Louis said, blinking his eyes repeatedly as Liam left out of the front door.  “It kinda sounds weird the more you say it.”

As soon as the front door was closed, Harry held his breath.  He was now alone with an outrageously drunk Louis, who was also deeply in love with him.  He had no doubt in his mind that Louis was going to try to have sex with him, and Harry wasn’t quite up for the challenge.

He and Louis stared at each other amidst the silence of the living room, and Harry felt trapped as Louis’ lopsided grin seemed to slowly widen.  It didn’t help that the lights were already turned down low due to Harry’s prior arrangements.

“You’re so pretty,” Louis said, the volume of his voice dropping drastically.  He took a slow step forward, twiddling his thumbs as he seemed to be struggling to keep balance.

The last thing Harry needed right now was for Drunk Louis to try his hand at seducing him, because for one, Harry had already established long ago that this man was attractive, so it was going to be absolute torture telling him no, and two, the man was drunk, and definitely not how Harry wanted him— _if_ anything were to ever happen between them.

“Look, Louis…” Harry started, running a hand down the back of his neck.  He found that a few of his hairs were stood up right about now, probably because of the man in front of him and those dark, alluring eyes that he’d never shown Harry before.

Louis came forward, and Harry was prepared to run, but…

Louis wrapped his arms around Harry and hugged him.  That was all.  Just a warm, cuddly hug as the man rubbed his cheek against Harry’s chest.  That was probably as dirty as Louis was gonna get, which was fine…slightly shocking, but perfectly fine.

With some time and hesitance, Harry brought his arms up in order to hug Louis back, but his eyes were big and questioning as he slowly rubbed at the man’s back.  “What is going on?”

Louis laughed into his chest.  “You smell good.”

Harry huffed out a laugh as he continued to hold Louis.  “If Axe and failure smell good, then I guess.”

Louis pulled him closer just a bit, easy hums escaping his lips as he seemed to get lost in the scent of Harry.  “It does.”

Harry patted his head as though he were a child, which only brought him to remember that the man’s hair was far messier than he’d ever seen it.  “You are seriously the weirdest drunk person I’ve ever seen.”

“Thank you.”

Harry finally took a second to slowly detach Louis from his body, moving to softly grip the man’s arm as he turned around toward the hallway.  “We should get you to bed.”

Louis stumbled behind him, falling to the ground in such a slow, gradual way that caused Harry to giggle just a little.

“Whoopsie,” Louis chortled, already reaching for Harry’s hands again as he remained on his ass.  “Save meee.”

Harry rolled his eyes as he reached down to scoop Louis into his arms, and this time he practically dragged the man toward his room, Louis laughing the entire way there.

It seemed that Louis didn’t want to go to Harry’s bed, or didn’t want to even _walk_ , because he made himself heavier just as they reached Harry’s room, causing Harry to lose his grip on him as Louis slid back down to the floor with a sigh.

“ _Louis_ ,” Harry said exhaustedly, watching as the man graciously let the rest of his body fall to the floor, allowing himself to lay across the carpet comfortably.

“My sleep is here…” Louis said, brushing his fingers against the carpet.  “Sleeping here now,” he mumbled.

Harry spoke to him carefully, as though he was dealing with a toddler at a daycare.  “But the bed is only a few more feet away.  Why can’t you sleep _there_?”

“Few more feet away,” Louis repeated, shifting his gaze to look at the bed which was, in fact, a few more feet away.  “Feet.  Why do they call it feet?  Is it the measure of a feet?  I mean a foot.  _Who’s_ foot?”

Harry sighed deeply as he gave up, sitting down with Louis on the carpet as the man continued to giggle at his own quirky statements.

Louis wriggled his foot around as he looked down at it.  “My feet are small.”

“What are you doing?” Harry asked, a slight edge to his tone that seemed to finally get Louis to focus.

Louis shifted as he moved to sit up, which appeared to be quite difficult as it took him a full fifteen seconds.  “What’re you talking about?”

“What are you _doing_ , Louis?” Harry asked, his voice a bit frantic.  “Why are you piss drunk?  I’ve never seen you like this before.”

“Excuse me sir,” Louis replied, putting a hand up.  “I have _not_ pissed myself.  I am fully dry in the crotch area.”

Harry blinked at him tiredly, because sure, this Louis was funny, and kind of exciting to watch,  but this wasn’t _Louis_.  _Louis_ was mature, professional, and he didn’t fucking trip over his own feet like a wild baby gazelle.  Although Harry had initially been angry at Liam for bringing Louis to his place as a means of help, he was slightly relieved, because seeing Louis this way was borderline alarming, and it could’ve gotten worse if no one had intervened.  Louis was a bit much at times, with his roses and mushy words and sack lunches, but Harry actually cared about him as a person.

“ _Why_ did you get drunk tonight?” Harry asked desperately, growing frustrated as the man continued to giggle.  “This isn’t something that you do.  This isn’t even something that you’re _supposed_ to do, I’m pretty sure.”

“So now you’re gonna tell me what I’m supposed to do?” Louis asked, everything about him suddenly becoming realer in a second, as though Harry had flipped a switch.  “You’re gonna do what everyone else does?"

Harry’s lips parted as he sat up, growing lost as Louis’ bubbly mood vanished altogether.

“Because maybe I’m fucking _sick_ of being that person, okay?” Louis said, choking up a bit.

Harry’d stopped breathing entirely because Louis had just _cursed_ , but that was beside the point.

Harry’s words stuttered slightly when he spoke up.  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to—“

“Of course this isn’t _something that I do_ ,” Louis quoted mockingly, running a hand through his wild hair as he burped.  “I’m Louis.  Louis, the twenty-seven year old CEO of Creative Vision Multimedia Advertising, and I call all the shots.”

Although the words he was stating were all fairly positive things in Harry’s eyes, the man seemed to spit the words out, causing them to sound horrible as they filled the silent air of Harry’s bedroom.

Louis breathed in and out a few times, looking down at his lap as Harry stared at the crown of his head.  “I’m at the top of _everything_ , and I can’t mess up.  No one expects me to.”

Harry scratched the side of his neck for a moment as he grew anxious of where this conversation was going.  “Well, that’s the kind of responsibility that comes with a job like that.”

Louis didn’t reply and instead kept his eyes downcast, a slow frown starting to form on his lips.

Harry leaned forward a bit, trying not to sound _too_ insensitive by keeping his voice light.  “What does that have to do with you getting sloppy drunk, though?”

Louis finally moved his head upward in order to meet Harry’s gaze, and they remained that way, staring at each other for no particular reason, for quite some time.  Then, Louis looked away, and he closed his mouth as he held his stomach, which was a gesture Harry was _very_ familiar with—

Harry scooted away hastily, shielding himself as the color began to leave Louis’ face.  “Please, _please_ not on me,” he whispered, closing his eyes and bracing himself for the man to throw up his guts.

When several seconds of closing his eyes and holding himself revealed that Louis was _not_ about to throw up, Harry opened his eyes, finding Louis sat there, a smirk on his face as he shook his head.

“I forced it back down,” he announced proudly, holding up two thumbs as Harry tried not to become disgusted.  “No puke coming anytime soon, captain.”

“Awesome,” Harry said halfheartedly, slowly unshielding himself.

“I want to mess up for once.”

Harry had been so sidetracked by the potential reality of Louis hurling a storm of vomit onto him that he’d forgotten what Louis was even responding to.  He fixed his eyes on Louis as the man fell right back into his desolate, self loathing state.

“Oh,” Harry replied.

There was more silence, and Harry had no idea of what to say.  Was he supposed to tell Louis that it was okay for him to get drunk like this, in order to free himself from the restraints of being a person of such high stature?  Or was he supposed to tell him to suck it up and be grateful that he even had a job that allowed him to make six figures a year?

“That’s why I like to keep it nice and simple,” Harry said instead, smoothing his hands across the carpet.  “I work at the mall and barely get by.  I’ve already fucked so much shit up in my life, that people aren’t surprised when I mess up.  That’s the treasure of it all.”  He laughed at himself for a little while, Louis staring at him questioningly through all of his breaths.

Eventually, Louis started laughing along with him, lightly and quietly, and soon, they were both just…laughing.

“You’re funny,” Louis nearly whispered after the giggles had died down.

Harry leaned back on the palms of his hands.  “You’ve told me that once or a million times.”

“Yeah, but I still don’t think you get enough credit,” Louis replied.  “Your funniness is a unique kind.”

“My funniness?”

“Funniness,” Louis said.  “Your dimply funniness.”

“Why thank you.”

“Your welcome, your funniness,” Louis replied, tilting his head forward to Harry.  “See?  I used it in a different way there.  Like, your highness…your funniness.”

“I see.”

“ _I’m_ funny too,” Louis said, eyes widening as he appeared he’d made the ultimate discovery.  “We’re funny together.”

Harry grinned, his dimples showing as he watched Louis eventually begin to grow bubbly again.  “Maybe so.”

“And cute.”

“I agree,” Harry said with a nod.

“You think I’m cute?” Louis asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I think,” Harry started, beginning to get on his feet as he reached for Louis.  “You need to get to bed.”  He dug his arms up under Louis’ armpits yet again, and this time, the man allowed himself to be hoisted up.

“Harry…” Louis said, his voice low and ominous.  Harry paused his act of dragging the man towards the bed as he blinked down at him in his arms.

Louis continued to stare up at him, his eyes glassy and full of wonder as he grasped at Harry’s forearms.

Then, the color in his face started to fade once again, and he was scrambling to hold his stomach.

Harry wasted no time hurriedly escorting him to the bathroom, and within seconds, the man was bent over the toilet bowl, hurling into the water ferociously.

Comforting a drunk person while they vomited was never something that Harry enjoyed doing, not when Liam went wild on New Year’s Eve and _certainly_ not when Zayn had thought mixing tequila and Jagermeister was a good idea.  Now, however, he was less bothered and disgusted by the grossness of it all, because his concern was centered around making sure Louis was okay.  He rubbed the back of the man’s sweater as Louis gripped the toilet bowl, every heave that echoed into the toilet seemingly painful.  This was different, because Louis probably hadn’t even wanted to actually get drunk—he’d just wanted an escape.  And now here he was, draped over some toilet like any other worthless, regular bloke.  As though he were Harry (because Harry had definitely had his fair share of nights doing this).  It was simply horrible to watch.

“God, this hurts,” Louis muttered at a point where it seemed the surges were through.

Harry leaned forward, brushing a little bit of Louis’ hair away from his face as the man continued to wince.  “Sorry. Your body’s probably taking it a lot worse than someone who drinks regularly.”

Louis turned to look at him, his eyes bearing that continuous glimmer that Harry’d seen the moment Liam brought the man to his door.

“Probably will suck a lot less next time,” Harry said with a shrug, before quickly putting both of his hands up.  “Not that you should _do_ it a next time.  I’m also not gonna tell you what to do…” Harry continued, his words trailing off as he now looked at one of the tiles on the ground, Louis continuing to stare blankly at him.  He then looked back up at Louis, his expression more certain this time.  “Actually, I am.  You shouldn’t do this again.  I don’t want you to.”

Louis just continued to blink at him, Harry blinking right back with stern eyes, making it clear that he was serious about what he was saying.  Louis gradually broke into giggles, his face softening as Harry grew confused about what was funny.

“God, Harry,” Louis breathed, slumping down on his legs in order to get a break from all of the kneeling.

“What?”

Louis stared at him wordlessly for a few more seconds, and he seemed to be pondering something in his mind, which only made Harry all the more clueless.

Louis spoke softly, his words almost a mere echo in the bathroom.  “You treat me different.”

Harry remained silent, unable to come up with a proper response to words he didn’t understand.

Louis’ fingers messed around with each other as he looked down at them, and then he continued to speak gently.  “Everyone else just…”  He took a moment to shrug uselessly.  “Acts like they care about me.  They put on a show and pretend to like me, because I’m their boss.”

Louis breathed in deeply, blowing it all out through puffed cheeks.  “I get that I’m—I’m probably annoying, and I might be a little stern sometimes with my clients, and people are pissed that I have this position and they don’t—I can’t help that!”  His words were pained, and although he raised his voice just a hint, it still didn’t break the atmosphere of the bathroom.  He brought his slightly red eyes back up to Harry, his look now bearing an air of innocence.  “When you’re nice to me, I know it’s because you want to be.  You’re never nice to me to get something out of it.  You’re real.”

Harry bit the inside of his cheek, not having realized how he’d practically stitched his eyes to Louis’ for the last two minutes.

“You’re real,” Louis repeated.  “In this world of fake smiles and status, you’re real, Harry.  And you’re special.”

Quietude was all that remained between them for a moment, Harry’s face not garnering any distinct expression, and a slow, crooked grin gradually making its way across Louis’ lips as he seemed to be thinking deeply about it all.

“That day you helped me carry my bags to my place…” Louis continued, still looking down in reminiscence.  “It was so special to me.  I hadn’t just…”  Louis motioned uselessly with his hands, letting out a deep sigh.  “Had a real moment like that with another person in so long.  It was always business meetings, pitches, lunches with people who had ulterior motives—it was all so superficial.  And then you, this guy I’ve never met, who I _know_ isn’t in the business because you were wearing a hoodie with freaking Jake the Dog on it…you pop up, and you actually, genuinely…talk to me.”

Louis sniffed, although he _wasn’t_ crying—Harry was watching him very closely to make sure of it.

“You talk to me, and you make me laugh, and you don’t expect anything from me,” Louis continued, finally bringing his sincere gaze to meet Harry’s.  “And I remember you told some stupid joke about plastic bags, and I started to feel all light and feathery inside.  As soon as we got to my front door and the reality hit me that you would have to leave, and I didn’t know who you were, or if you even _lived_ around here, or if I would ever see you again…I knew I was screwed.”  He now laughed, but Harry was as still as a statue, his insides seemingly frozen in place as he continued to lock eyes with Louis.

Louis clasped his hands together rather loudly, but Harry continued to remain in the same position nonetheless.

“There you have it,” Louis said, his eyebrows raised.  “That is why _you_ , Smiles, are my favorite person.”

Harry finally managed to offer a nod, chewing on his bottom lip in the process.  “Oh.”

That was all he said—that was all he _could_ say, because what the fuck?

Louis didn’t seem to mind anyway, because before anything else could be exchanged between them, his stomach decided that it wasn’t finished with expelling its contents.  Louis leaned back over the toilet, and Harry got right up behind him in order to rub at his back again.

Afterward, Harry lent Louis a toothbrush that he hadn’t opened yet and allowed him a moment to freshen his breath, and as the night started to draw to a close, Harry finally managed to get Louis into his bed.  He even took the time to lay the blankets over the man comfortably, and Louis was already asleep by the time Harry gently lifted his head and slid a pillow underneath it.

Harry didn’t stand over Louis and stare at him while he was asleep for _too_ long—probably thirty seconds at _most_ , and when he was done, he decided to crash on the armchair in his bedroom, just so he could get a proper sleep.  He also felt he needed to be close enough to Louis in case the man woke up again.

He ended up snatching the duvet off of Liam’s bed and dragging it to his room, snuggling in and getting as comfortable as possible in the armchair before he eventually drifted off into a deep sleep.

When he woke up, Louis was nowhere.

As per usual, it took Harry several minutes to properly wake up after he scratched at his scalp multiple times, moaned and groaned into the couch cushion, and yawned against his fist for an eternity.  After his eyes finally adjusted to the settings around him—and his mind adjusted to the fact that Louis had been in his bed the night before and no longer _was_ —Harry grew confused, as well as…something else that he couldn’t quite figure out.  His mind was hazy.

He finally sat up, his hair mussed and chaotic as he blinked at his bed, which was now neatly made up.  Harry couldn’t even remember the last time he’d made up his bed, didn’t even know what it was supposed to look like when it was made, but now he was staring at it, and he didn’t know what to think.

Harry snorted as he finally pushed his sluggish body up from the chair, and he dragged his feet across the carpet, intent to get some type of breakfast in his system before work.

The kitchen had definitely been where he’d planned to go, because that was where the food was, but it seemed Harry’s feet had other plans as they came to a slow stop near his bedroom door.

Harry scratched his hip as he looked at the ground, standing in the area of the carpet he and Louis had sat in the night before.  His lips started to form a slight pout, and he didn’t know why.  He also didn’t know why he slowly allowed himself to sit down in that same spot, letting out an exhausted sigh in the process.

He sat there, one hand under his shirt, scratching at his belly, and another hand flat on the carpet, and all he could envision was Louis, sitting in front of him, voicing his inner struggles through burps and giggles.

He figured Louis must’ve left because he had work as well, and the thought made Harry’s insides overflow with empathy.  On top of everything at his job, that man was going to have to deal with the most awful hangover known to man.

“Having fun?” came a voice, to which Harry glanced toward.

Liam was standing in his doorway, a mug held up to his lips and a smile on his face.

“Fuck off,” Harry mumbled, running a hand through his hair as he looked down at his lap.  “Did you make me some tea too?”

“Oh, I didn’t make this,” Liam said, causing Harry to pick his head back up.  “Louis did.  Before he left.”  He took a casual sip out of it as he raised his eyebrows pointedly.  “He made you a mug too, for when you woke up.  It’s on the counter.”

Harry sighed, his state of misery expanding with every word that came out of Liam’s mouth.

He listened to the horrid sound of Liam swallowing, before he continued to speak.  “He was putting a bit of syrup in yours, and when I asked him why, he told me that’s the way you like it.”

Harry groaned, because he didn’t know how much worse everything could get.  He’d literally told Louis that he liked syrup in his tea _once_ and that was _four months ago_ , yet the man still remembered.  Fuck.  Fuck fuck _fuck_.

“ _Awww._   You’re blushing,” Liam cooed, causing Harry to immediately cover his cheek with one hand and turn away from Liam.

“Shut up,” Harry moaned.

“That is so _adorable_ ,” Liam continued.  “You telling Louis little things about you so you guys can prepare for your domestic future together.”

Harry whimpered, his face now buried in his hands as he became outrageously frazzled.

“I guess I did you guys a favor yesterday, then,” Liam said proudly.  “You can thank me from the altar at your wedding.”

 

~*~

 

“Any luck?” Zayn asked, just as he entered the break room and intercepted Harry in order to clock in.

Harry rolled his eyes, securing his headband as he moved past Zayn.  “With what?” he asked as he punched his numbers in.

“With getting laid,” Zayn said, chuckling as Harry walked over to his locker.

“You know,” Harry started, pulling it open by the handle and shoving his jacket into it.  “Getting laid isn’t everything.”

He tried to ignore the fact that Zayn was probably shaking his head at him as he continued to laugh it up.

“It’s just one quick little night that you forget about the next day,” Harry continued, shutting his locker as he turned to face Zayn.  “It’s overrated.”

Zayn was still giggling lightly, and Harry was growing sick of his childish behavior, as well as the unrelated fact that he didn’t look as ridiculous as everyone else with the cookie on his head. “I’m guessing that’s a ‘no’,” the man said.

Harry gave up, crossing his arms as he prepared to leave the break room and have a perfect, normal, productive day at work without coworkers making him feel lame for not having meaningless sex.

The day had gone relatively well, and Harry wasn’t completely exhausted by the time he clocked out, so he was in a rather good mood.

He didn’t know if the text he’d gotten as he was walking across the parking lot after work was supposed to improve his mood or not.

He’d been pretty much lollygagging, lazily kicking his feet as he moved them across the enormous mall parking lot, his jacket slung over his shoulder as the sun decided to try and kill him with fire.  His phone had vibrated while he was on it, scrolling through various memes.

He was a bit surprised to find Louis’ name displayed at the top of his screen, because although it was obvious Louis was a bit obsessed with him, the man never really texted him.  Handwritten love notes left at his front door were probably much more heartfelt to Louis than texts.

Harry opened the text, his feet coming to a gradual stop as he shielded his screen and attempted to read it.

**Louis:** _Hello, Harry.  I am texting to let you know that I am deeply sorry about the events that took place last night, as well as my behavior.  I do not know what happened, because I was under the influence, but I woke up at your place, and I know that given the state I was in, I probably caused you much suffering.  Again, I apologize for any torment I probably caused you last night.  I hope I can be forgiven.  Thank you for looking after me.  Louis x_

Harry squinted his eyes at the screen, partly because he could hardly see what was on it, and also because he wanted to make sure that he’d read what he thought he’d just read.

Harry shook his head faintly, because of all the many things that this text was an indicator of, it highlighted the fact that Louis texted with proper punctuation, and that weirded Harry out a bit, as well as intrigued him.  Not a single comma was out of place, and there wasn’t a utilized contraction in sight.  He even finished off the text with his own god damn _name_ , as if Harry didn’t already have his contact saved.  It was so… _Louis_ , and definitely not the Louis that he’d been speaking to (or listening to) the night before.

Harry moved his thumbs across the screen in order to text back, feeling as though however he was about to reply wasn’t going to be formal enough.

 **Harry:** _u dont have to apologize, nothin too bad happened :)_

Harry pocketed his phone before continuing his journey towards the bus stop, which was proving itself to be a rather tiresome one.

He hadn’t even gone two steps before his phone vibrated, and he didn’t hesitate to pull it out of his pocket as he continued his stroll.

 **Louis:** _I still feel horrible._   _It’s not like me to be so immature, and I’m sorry you had to witness that._

Harry chuckled into his fist for a moment as he neared the corner where he was supposed to wait for his bus, standing alongside a few other people.

 **Harry:**   _chilll._ _everythings fine_

 **Louis:** _I want to make it up to you so badly.  Can I?_

One of Harry’s eyebrows shot up in the air as he continued to hold his phone, and he was so invested in the suggestive wording of the text that he’d almost missed the city bus that had pulled up in front of the curb.  Harry nearly tripped over the first step onto the bus as he kept his eyes glued to his phone, eager to type out a text for Louis.

 **Harry:** _how so?_

It was a mere fifteen seconds before Harry got a response.

 **Louis:** _I can think of several ways._

And oh.  _Oh._

Was this…were they…?  Harry wasn’t _quite_ sure of what was going on, but he felt he had a slight idea, so he was intent on playing along.

He squeezed into a corner seat next to an old lady that seemed to be holding a cage on her lap containing a colorful bird, but Harry didn’t even glance at her twice; he’d gotten quite used to weird shit on the city buses.

 **Harry:** _such as…_

Harry’s foot was _not_ tapping vigorously against the ground as he waited for Louis’ text.

 **Louis:** _Sweet…Yummy ways ; )_

And, wait a second… A winking face?  What the fuck did Louis think this was?  If the man was going to start this indecent texting streak, he needed to know first and foremost that Harry did not like to be teased.

 **Harry:** _yummy?  thats seriously what ur using to describe it_

 **Harry:** _and you would actually…do that_

 **Harry:** _?_

Obviously, Harry was growing just a tad excited, because this was _Louis_ he was texting, and never had he ever expected them to have a conversation such as this one.

He was also intrigued by the fact that Louis would use the word “yummy”.  The taste, in Harry’s opinion, was more tolerable than anything, but if all of this actually ended up happening, Harry would eat buckets and buckets of fruits for him.  He’d devour all the pineapples in the world, fuck.

 **Louis:** _Of course!  Nothing I love more than working hard to get it thick and creamy…If you come over, I’d even feed some of it to you._

Holy _shit_.

Harry’s eyes were full on widened as he continued to goggle at his phone, and he could feel the old lady’s eyes on him, but he didn’t care.  Louis was…he was fucking _dirty_.  He was going to make Harry _taste it,_ and now Harry’s mind was moving at a hundred and fifty miles per hour with visuals and scenarios and— _fuck._

He looked down at his jeans in order to make sure he wasn’t indecent, and he was pleased to find that all of his excitement remained hidden.

 **Harry:** _would u make me…?_

Harry swallowed, before shifting in his seat and biting down on his bottom lip in order to contain all of his avidity.

 **Louis:** _If I have to._   _Won’t_ _let you get away without at least one lick._

Harry was now breathing through his nose, and he felt that if the bus didn’t get him home in the next two seconds, he was going to explode.  He _needed_ to relieve himself of all this frustration right fucking _now_.

His phone vibrated again before he could even finish typing out a reply for Louis.

 **Louis:** _But then it would have to go in the oven, of course._

Wait.

Harry blinked down at the text as he continued to drag his eyes over the letters time and time again, and then he proceeded to delete every single naughty, explicit, completely _inappropriate_ word he had intended to send Louis literally two seconds before.  He started a new text, his eyebrows knit together.

 **Harry:** _um…are we talking about the same thing?_

Some unknown force prompted Harry to shoot his eyes up in order to look out of the window next to him, and he found that he was well past where he was supposed to have gotten off.  He viciously pulled the cord in order to signal for the bus driver to stop, letting out a groan once he finally stopped several thousands of feet later.

Harry muttered a “thanks” to the bus driver as he stepped off of the bus, already dreading the mile long walk that he was going to have to endure on the journey back to his place of residence.

He pulled his phone out of his pocket, finding a text from Louis that crushed all of his hopes and dreams.

 **Louis:** _Yeah.  If we’re talking about me baking a cake for you._

Harry slid his hand down the entirety of his face as he dragged his feet down the sidewalk.

He pocketed his phone with a groan, because now he was going to have aching feet when he reached his front door, along with disappointment.

 

~*~

 

Despite Harry expressing to Louis numerous times that no, he did not need to bake a cake in order to make up for a night where nothing had really even happened, Louis was still bent on doing so.

Louis had been giving him half-hourly updates on the status of the homemade, red velvet layer cake he had been working on, and Harry wondered if he, himself, had singlehandedly opened the door for them to start texting each other nonstop.

Louis even sent him a picture of the cake when he was finished (and it looked rather impressive for a homemade cake, if Harry did say so himself), and vowed to deliver it to him during his lunch break the next day.

It just so happened that the next day, Harry’s job gave him the day off, much to his utter surprise.

With all of his newfound free time, Harry saw no reason not to go to Louis’ job and pick up the cake himself, so that the man wouldn’t trouble himself running around town and driving back and forth in order to cater to Harry.

Harry also kind of liked the chaotic, yet unruffled environment of Louis’ work building.  It both soothed and flustered him in a way he didn’t even want to try and comprehend.

It didn’t hurt that he also greatly enjoyed being inside of Louis’ spacious office.  Being inside there reminded him that, while Louis was this soft, saccharine _sweetie_ , he was also powerful, and kind of…sexy.   Harry was aware it was an odd thing to take pleasure out of, especially since Louis clearly had many problems with his status at the agency, but he couldn’t help what got him going.

Upon entering the building, after he’d gotten through the whirlwind of workers and moving carts, his eyes fell upon the familiar figure of the front desk, with the same mean-spirited, fluffy haired man sitting behind it.

Harry approached it just like the first time, hoping that maybe Niall had only been rude that other day because he wasn’t in a good mood.

He came to find out he was wrong as soon as Niall opened his mouth.

“You again,” he said with a snort, not even glancing up at Harry as he typed away on his computer.

Harry grinned tightly, trying not to let this man’s bitterness get to him, because he’d been having a fairly good day so far.

“Yep, it’s me,” Harry replied.  “I need to see Louis again.  Mind taking me to him?”

Niall’s fingers ceased to dart across the keyboard as he finally moved his eyes up to Harry and kept them there.  Harry stared back, mostly because he’d said all he needed to say and was simply waiting for Niall to fulfill his request.

Niall’s eyes narrowed only slightly, and Harry could tell that he was doing what he did best: judging.  Harry just continued to hold eye contact, even letting a small grin form on his lips as he remained perfectly content.

“Are you fucking my boss?” Niall asked bluntly.

Harry drew his eyebrows together as he shook his head, practically laughing his words as he said them.  “No, _God_ no.  Me and Louis—we’re not like that.”

Niall said nothing, but Harry was pretty sure he was grinding his teeth behind his closed mouth, so he took the liberty of worsening his irritated state.

“Unless, of course,” Harry started.  “You’re asking that question because you _like_ him, or something.  Because in that case…we _are_ fucking.  A lot.”

Niall pushed himself away from his desk, moving to stand up as he gestured for Harry to follow him.  “You’re not funny.”

“ _My fuckbuddy thinks otherwise_ ,” Harry sang as he followed behind him.

Once they reached the door for Louis’ office, Niall didn’t stick around like he did the last time.  He turned around, seemingly heading for his place back in the lobby, leaving Harry to fend for himself when it would eventually become time to head back to the front.

Harry didn’t hold back in rolling his eyes as he twisted the door handle, gently pushing the door open as he let himself in.

“I told you, I _hate_ it!”

Harry paused in his tracks, his hand remaining on the door handle as his body was now halfway in the room.  It seemed that neither Louis, nor this guy he was actively snapping on, had noticed he had even entered.

Harry knew it would’ve been best for him to shut the door and wait until they were done discussing business, but…he was an eavesdropper, alright?

The guy Louis was yelling at was shuffling through many papers frantically, his face turning a slight shade of scarlet as Louis’ arms remained firmly crossed, his chin up and his jaw tight as he seemed to be growing impatient.  He looked grown, and mature, and aggressive, and _hot_.

“But—but sir, the—“

“ _What_ did I tell you about this proposal?” Louis asked, his voice so sharp and stern that it even made Harry scared.

“You… you said you wanted a new one—“

“Then why would you bring me back the _exact_ same thing?” Louis nearly exploded, snatching a piece of paper out of the guy’s hands.  “When I request for things to be done at a certain time, I _expect_ them to be done at a certain time.”

The guy shook his head wordlessly, although it seemed like he was trying to formulate words, but he was too frightened to do so.  “I…I thought—“

“You thought what?” Louis asked, stepping forward and challenging him with piercing, relentless eyes.  “That I’d all of a sudden change my mind and love it?”

“Sir—“

“Don’t _sir_ me,” Louis snapped, shoving the paper back at him as the guy scrambled to take it.  “You failed me John, now get out _._ ”

“Yes sir,” was all the guy said, his words quick and his movements even quicker as he gathered all of his papers back into the folder he’d been shuffling through.

Louis tapped his knuckles against his desk impatiently as _John_ continued to gather himself.  “And don’t even _think_ about ever approaching me again with the same pitch.  If you think it can’t get worse than this, you’re gonna be in for a big surprise.”

The guy just tipped his head forward to Louis before heading out of the office an anxious, defeated mess.  He didn’t even acknowledge Harry as he glided by him in order to exit the office, although Harry’s eyes followed him the whole way out.

“Harry,” Louis said, causing Harry to bring his eyes back toward Louis.  The man sounded like he was surprised, and not in the pleasant kind of way.

“I didn’t…” Louis started, adjusting his tie as Harry closed the door behind himself.  “I didn’t mean for you to hear all of that…I’m…that’s not usually—“

“That was hot,” Harry said, his voice low as he now stared unblinkingly at Louis.

Louis’ lips parted as his eyebrows raised for a half second, clearly taken aback as he continued to toy with his tie.  “Hmm?”

Harry took a few steps forward, his feet slow and teasing as he neared the man.  “You heard me.”

“You um…” Louis started, swallowing multiple times as Harry started to grow closer.  “You found that hot?”

Harry couldn’t even bring himself to smirk, or do anything else with his lips besides bite down on them as he finally gave into the fact that he was severely turned on by Louis in many, many ways.

Harry nodded, his teeth continuing to latch onto his bottom lip.  “You get like that with a lot of your coworkers?”

Louis grinned shyly, as though all of this were a dream come true for him.  “I…I can get like that when I want to.”

Harry was now in his space, and he didn’t hesitate before reaching out a slow hand, wrapping a fist around the bottom of Louis’ tie.  He had absolutely _no_ idea of what he was doing.  Lust had truly entered his body and hijacked his entire being.

“Really?” Harry asked, his voice so low it was almost a purr, his hand sliding up Louis’ tie and subtly pulling him half an inch closer.

“Yeah, I…” Louis started, noticeably gulping as Harry stepped closer.  “I give everyone a set of rules.”

Harry leaned forward a bit, just enough for the side of his face to be pressed against Louis’ as he breathed into the man’s ear.  “Tell me all of them.”

Louis exhaled shakily, his hands by his sides as Harry remained close against him.  Hesitantly—so hesitantly that Harry almost took the man’s hand and put it where it wanted to be himself—one of Louis’ hands came up to his hip, simply resting there as his fist gently curled around the material of Harry’s sweatshirt.

“No writing in blue ink.  Ever,” Louis whispered, causing Harry to bring himself closer to Louis as he let his head fall into the man’s shoulder.

“Go on…”

“If anything’s in blue ink, I throw it in the trash and tell them to rewrite the whole thing,” Louis continued.

Harry’s eyes fluttered closed as he allowed his teeth to catch onto Louis’ suit at the shoulder.  His breath hiccupped when he felt Louis’ once hesitant hand, sneak toward his back and pull him in closer.

“What else?”

“No barging into my office,” Louis continued.  “Everyone has to schedule to meet with me at least two weeks in advance.”

“Fuck,” Harry breathed, gently allowing his thighs to press against Louis’ as they both continued to breathe heavily.  Both of Louis’ hands were now roaming over his body, caressing his waist, fisting his shirt.

Louis swallowed before continuing to speak.  “Once, I told the creative director that if he didn’t find new talent in three hours, I’d fire him.”

Harry’s breath stuttered as he shifted his hips up a bit, just so that he could feel the man against him faintly and tell whether he was as eager as Harry was.

“ _Jesus_ ,” Louis breathed, immediately moving his arm in order to trap him in place once Harry rutted up against him.

Harry was wildly taken aback, both from the fact that Louis was now actively forcing him to stay close with his arm wrapped around his lower back, and also from the fact that the man was fully _hard_ and Harry could feel it perfectly.

Harry slid his right hand up into Louis’ hair, already turned on from the sole fact that he was messing up the neatness of it in the middle of his regular day at work.  He began moving his hips with less restraint than he’d had prior, taking the time to properly slot his thigh in between Louis’ legs.

Harry couldn’t help the way his fingers naturally tugged on Louis’ hair with every movement of their hips against one another.  It was just that, Louis was _big_.  And Harry could _feel it._

Harry’s mouth hung open as he continued to grind against him, and it was clear Louis was doing his best to suppress heavy moans and whimpers by the way he let out helpless, high pitched sounds.

“That’s good,” Harry practically moaned, followed by a gasp as Louis rutted his hips up particularly hard in order to meet Harry’s.  “That’s really good— _oh.”_

Louis’ hands kept moving lower on his waist, although they never reached that _certain_ place that Harry wanted them to.

As their movements grew more impatient, Harry nearly driving Louis into the desk as the man finally started to let out quiet “ _yes”_ ’s and “ _Harry”_ ’s, Harry couldn’t stop himself from reaching behind and viciously moving Louis’ hands so that they were right over his ass.

He was _aware_ that he had a tiny ass, thanks to Liam not letting him forget it every time he watched Harry change.  He still liked to have it squeezed however, and now that they were deeply absorbed in this sexual encounter, he wasn’t going to hold back in letting the man know exactly what he wanted.

Louis was apparently on board, because as soon as Harry had moved his hands, the man immediately squeezed Harry’s bum, pulling him in more aggressively as he grinded his hips upward.

“ _Fuck_ ,” Harry breathed, before dragging his open mouth to Louis’ neck and letting his teeth graze the skin.

Louis hissed in response before gripping Harry tighter, the heels of Harry’s feet now lifting off the ground as he started to grow more turned on than he’d been in a long time.

He didn’t even see it coming when Louis curved one arm under his thigh and turned them around, almost knocking the breath out of Harry as he rested him against the desk and began to move against him relentlessly, no longer giving a care to all the important papers and folders on his desk that were now scattering.

Louis’ mouth came to Harry’s neck as they were now getting off on each other, half-on top of his desk.  As the man placed deep, _painfully_ sweet kisses down the side of his neck, Harry worked hurriedly on getting his tie undone.  He quickly grew impatient however, especially when Louis’ mind seemed to go “fuck it” and the man completely got on top of his desk, curving his arms under Harry’s thighs and jerking them closer.

Harry could hear the chaotic sounds of many things—pencil holders, boxes of staples, documents, even what he thought might’ve been his _laptop_ —falling to the ground, but he couldn’t bring himself to care as Louis licked his collar bone and worked on getting the front of his pants undone.

Harry was pretty sure he’d never been this aroused in his _life_.  One second, Louis was this sweet sweetie (that was the unofficial nickname Harry had given him) and then the next, he was this irresistible, dominant _sex_ god, and Harry’s eyes were nearly watering with how sudden and quick the shift was.

The sound of his office door opening was the only thing that triggered them to remember where they were.

Louis immediately scrambled to get off of Harry as Harry zipped up his pants, even though the mess surrounding Louis’ desk, Louis’ wild hair, and Harry’s huge eyes would’ve given them away regardless.

At the door was Niall, and he didn’t seem fazed in the least bit as he blinked at them from the doorway.

He sighed before speaking, one hand still on the door handle.  “I knew you two were fucking,” he said tiredly.  “Louis, Ben told me to remind you that you have a meeting in fifteen.”

With that, he calmly backed out of the room and closed the door behind himself.

“Shoot,” Louis muttered to himself, already crouching down to pick up items that had fallen from his desk.

Harry was in a state of complete and utter bafflement, because he was now slowly but surely coming to terms with what had just happened.

Louis looked up at Harry as he continued to pick up items, his eyes apologetic and almost frantic as he swiftly turned back into the Louis who was endlessly sweet.

“I’m so sorry, God,” Louis said, standing up as he set a few things back on his desk.

Harry fastened his pants before sliding down from Louis’ desk, pupils dilated as he shook his head at the man.  “No— _I’m_ sorry.”  He scratched at his curls, watching as an obvious flush began to spread throughout Louis’ face.  “This is a professional setting…I shouldn’t have…um.”  Harry was quite flustered himself, and they both seemed completely clueless as to what to do next.

Harry instead reached out, intent on fixing the tie he’d undone.  “Let me help you with that.”

“No—it’s fine, I’ve got it—“

“Just…let me—“

“Harry, you don’t know how to fix a tie,” Louis said with a nervous chuckle.

Well.  That was _true_.

“Okay, I just,” Harry replied, finally keeping his hands to himself.  It was then that he noticed that they were still inappropriately close, so he sidestepped Louis in order to allow some space.  “I’ll just—I’ll leave,” he said, pointing over his shoulder.

Louis turned around, his eyes following Harry and his awkward movements.

Harry blindly reached for the door handle behind himself, missing it three whole times as he nearly tripped over his feet.  “Don’t forget to uh…fix your hair before the meeting.  Bye.”

He turned around quickly and without another word, widening his eyes at himself as he closed the door and stepped out into the hallway.

During the entire, lengthy, confusing journey back to the lobby, Harry couldn’t help wondering what had gotten into him just then.  Harry, most definitely, without a doubt, was going to let Louis fuck the curls off of his head if Niall hadn’t walked in and reminded him that reality existed.  Louis had just been so irresistibly attractive right then…what was _happening_?

Harry brought his hand up to cover his mouth as he continued to walk around the building aimlessly, with absolutely no idea of where he was going.

This had to be something that would mess up the natural order of things.  What they’d done just then had probably fucked up the space time continuum, if that even made sense.  This was _not_ the way of the world.  Louis was supposed to pine over Harry daily, and Harry was supposed to never return the same sentiment while accepting all of his lovely gestures with smiles.  They were _not_ supposed to get off against each other on top of a fancy office desk like something out of a porno.

Once Harry had finally found the lobby after about twenty minutes of pathetic wandering, he decided that he was going to forget about the whole ordeal as soon as he exited the building.

And he did.

That was, until he got home and violently wanked to the memory of it.

 

~*~

 

It was any regular old day, Harry doing business behind the counter as usual, grinning and bearing with middle aged ladies who refused to accept the fact that they didn’t sell ice cream.  Nothing out of the ordinary.

Harry’s shift was pretty much almost over when things started to get not-so-normal, and his boss signaled for him.

As his boss was pulling him aside, Harry’s mind was immediately beginning to speed through the several things he’d done at his job in the last few days, and he couldn’t find anything particularly bad.  He still remained panicked nonetheless, because it was rare that Mr. Ross ever acknowledged him unless he was asking if Louis was going to stop by and leave them his lovely tips.

Maybe he’d finally picked up on the fact that there was a missing cookie (or three) from behind the counter every time Harry was done with his shift?  Or maybe he’d heard Harry curse at that little girl who wouldn’t stop calling him “cookie head” that one day?

He knew it couldn’t have been those things, because if anyone at work knew Mr. Ross, they were aware that he was alarmingly clueless.  So many things went right under his nose that it was almost scary.

So, naturally, as Harry finally took a seat with Mr. Ross in the break room, he accepted the fact that he was probably getting a promotion and a raise.

 

~*~

 

“He _fired_ me!”

Liam nearly fell into his suitcase from where he was hovered over it, kneeling in the living room and attempting to stuff it with lab coats.  He widened his eyes at Harry’s hasty entry, his lips parting with confusion.

“What?” Liam asked, before pulling one of the lab coats out and beginning to refold it.

Harry ran a stressful hand through his hair as he paced the area between the living room and the kitchen, his voice full of rage and wavering slightly.  “I mean—he didn’t even give me a proper _reason!”_

Liam sighed sadly, moving to get his book bag in order once he’d finally secured his suitcase.  “That can’t be true—“

“It is!” Harry yelled, punching his fist against his palm as his feet continued to move restlessly.  “He tried to give me some bullshit excuse, like _we’re letting a lot of people go, there isn’t enough money, we just don’t need you anymore_ and blah, blah, _fucking_ blah!”

Liam slowly rose to his feet, wiping his hands against each other as he seemed to have finally finished preparing to go away for two days (he had some nerd medical school thing, don’t ask Harry).  “Seems like a valid reason to me.”

Harry stalked toward Liam, thrusting a finger into his face as he pointed at him.  “Don’t you say that.  There can never be a valid reason for firing _me_ , a guy who needs a job more than he needs to _breathe_.”

Liam crossed his arms, seemingly over Harry and his dramatics.

“And guess what?” Harry asked, laughing dryly as he turned around and continued to walk back and forth.  “They didn’t even fire _Zayn_!  But they fired _me_?  This is…this is—“

“Please don’t say reverse racism,” Liam sighed.

“This is prejudice against people with curly hair!” Harry exclaimed

Liam approached him, reaching out a hand in order to stifle Harry’s moving feet.  “Sure it is.”

“I don’t even know what I’m supposed to do,” Harry said, his nerves starting to calm little by little as Liam rubbed his hands up and down his arms.  “I walked out on my first two jobs without two week’s notice, I stopped working at retail after only three weeks of torture, and now I’m getting _fired_ from this job.  What place will hire me with that resume?”

“I’m sure _some_ place will,” Liam assured him, giving one of his arms one last squeeze.

Harry brought his hands up to his face, burying himself in them as he started to drown under all the stress he was going to be swimming in pretty soon.  “Ugh…I hate this,” he groaned, almost inaudibly into his palms.

He felt Liam’s arm curve around the back of his neck, and he allowed himself to be embraced when the man pulled him in.  “It’s okay, Harry,” Liam said quietly, attempting to soothe him as he drew circles into the back of his neck.  “If you don’t find a job, I won’t be mad.  I’ll just…I’ll pick up another one.  I’ll have two jobs.  Don’t beat yourself up.”

Harry breathed in through his nose before releasing his hands from his face and letting out a deep, long breath.  “Thanks, but I’m gonna get a job.”

“Listen…” Liam started, turning toward his bag as he spoke to Harry.  “I’ll still be away in Maryland when the time comes to pay rent, so I’ll go ahead and give you the money now.”

“You don’t have to—“

“Here you go,” Liam said, and he came back in front of Harry, a wad—not a rumpled stack, or a few bills, but an actual _wad_ in his hand that seemed like it was more than enough to cover everything for the month.

“Where did you…”

“I was shadowing an anesthesiologist last week and um…” Liam started, chuckling a little.  “Let’s just say things went really wrong, and I helped out a lot, so they paid me.”

Harry shook his head, crossing his arms as he took a step back from Liam.  “I can’t take that.”

“Oh, sure you can,” Liam said, continuing to hold the money out toward him.

Harry couldn’t take it, because all the stupid wad did was remind him that he was a failure. Here Liam was, busting his ass every single day trying to get by _and_ attend school, and Harry was getting fired from jobs and humping CEO’s in their polished offices.

“I’ll leave it right here,” Liam eventually decided, setting down the wad on top of the kitchen counter before starting toward his belongings.  He slung his book bag over his shoulder as he pulled the handle to his suitcase, but Harry continued to stand there with his arms crossed and his pride beginning to wane.

“See you in a few days, alright?” Liam said, coming up to Harry and giving him one last hug (which Harry returned halfheartedly) before he headed out of the door.

Harry was left with nothing but the silence of the apartment, now void of the determination that Liam had reeked with.

Harry was not going to waste a second before trying his hand at obtaining another job.  Sure, he’d dropped out of college, disappointed everyone he’d grown up with, and irreversibly fucked a lot of shit up, but one thing he was not going to be lazy about was having an actual job.  He refused to bum around, living off of Liam and the fat checks he would eventually get from working for the man.

Harry, however, had been experiencing a rather exhausting day, what with getting fired and all.  He felt that it would’ve helped him to be more alert if he slept the rest of the day away and _then_ went out the next morning to look for a job.  It made sense.

So the next day, he remained true to his word, and he was out of the door before it was ten a.m.  He was wearing one of Liam’s charcoal blazers that was quite loose on him, causing him to look a bit ridiculous, but it wasn’t his fault that he didn’t have any dressy casual attire.

He had been walking around the nearest avenue for several hours on end, going from entrance to entrance—the pet shop, Toys R Us, the local laundromat, some hipster music place he’d never heard of—and he found no success.  No place in need of a new hire.  Nothing.

 _We’re not looking for anyone right now, but you can still apply here if you’d like.  Put your number here and we’ll try our best to call you.  Try us again next month._ Harry knew what all of it meant.  They didn’t have to try to sugarcoat it.  It would’ve sufficed if they’d just screamed _You’re a worthless piece of shit!  Go home!_ over the counter, because Harry was pretty certain that was exactly what they’d wanted to say anyway.

When Harry was finally making his way home after having gone to twelve different places—all by _foot_ —, he received a call.

He snorted once he pulled his phone out of the pocket of his blazer and saw that it was Zayn calling.  He had no reason to hold anything against the guy, but he was still bitter.

“Yeah?” Harry answered, holding the phone to his ear as he walked.

He heard Zayn breathe gently into the phone before he spoke.  “I heard about what happened.”

“Yep,” Harry said, pressing his lips together as he kicked at an acorn on the ground with a little _too_ much aggression.  “I’m jobless.”

“They laid off a bunch of folks. It sucks,” Zayn said, and Harry hated the fact that he sounded as though he was actually hurting for him.  He secretly wanted the man to take joy out of his shortcomings, so that Harry would feel justified in hating him for still having the job.

Harry didn’t respond, instead sighing deeply as he balled his fist and then unballed it multiple times.

Zayn spoke up again.  “I’ll quit.”

Harry scoffed.  “Don’t be an idiot, okay?  Just—keep the stupid cookie job and I’ll find some way…some _miracle_ that will allow me to get back on my feet.”

“You know…” Zayn started, the suggestiveness of his tone already letting Harry know he was going to talk bullshit.  “You can always call up your sugar daddy Louis, anytime, and just—“

“Bye, Zayn,” Harry replied, before pressing to end the call.

Stupid Zayn and his fucking…likeable aura.  That was probably why they didn’t fire him, because he was so chill and naturally appealing with his stupid mystical eyes.  Harry hated him.

Harry continued to grunt and mutter at himself as he reached his apartment, probably sounding like an old man complaining about a hip replacement.

He came to a slow stop in front of his door once he noticed the rose, laying gently on top of the doormat, that he’d probably forgotten to pick up.

Harry bent down to retrieve it with a roll of his eyes, before unlocking the front door and pushing to get it open.  He detached the index card from the stem of the rose, walking over to set the rose in the vase alongside all the others, and then he went into the kitchen, pulled open the drawer with all the love notes in it, and threw the one he was holding inside.

He shoved the drawer closed before turning his back to the counter, crossing his arms and feeling shittier than he'd felt in a while.

He allowed his knees to give out as his back slid down the kitchen counter, because he was fucking _tired_ of being on his feet.  He sunk down to the kitchen floor eventually, his arms still crossed and his teeth tightly pressed together as he stared straight ahead and attempted to suppress any emotion.

He didn’t think about how Liam’s wad was still on top of the kitchen counter, mocking him and everything he’d never be able to be, didn’t think about how he was ninety-nine percent sure his next meal was going to come from a Ramen noodle cup, because that was _all_ he ate, and he _certainly_ didn’t think about how he couldn’t remember the last time he hadn’t been a disappointment.

Harry sniffled a bit as he sat there, arms still crossed and knees close to his chest.

He eventually let out the exhaustion-filled sigh that he’d been waiting to get out of his system, and allowed his shoulders to slump as he placed his face in his hands.

Just…everything sucked.  Harry always tried to lighten things up or joke his way out of dealing with the obvious, horrid train wreck his life had slowly been turning out to be, but it was times like these when everything became too much to ignore.

Here he was on the kitchen floor, sitting on top of tiles that were faded and peeled back.  He was wearing an exceedingly uncomfortable blazer that didn’t even fit him, all because he was too useless to make enough money and buy an actual suit.

He rubbed his hands down his face before picking up his head, blinking profusely as he continued to take in all of his surroundings.

Before he could even fully _engage_ in blankly staring at nothing, all went dark.

Now Harry’s vision was occupied with the black shadows of the different appliances in the kitchen, along with the items and utensils littered across the counter.

He let out a dry and lifeless laugh as he continued to sit there.  “Forgot to pay that one, didn’t I?”

He continued to remain in darkness, with nothing but the sounds of his own sniffs and breaths to accompany him.

At some point, and for some reason he wasn’t quite sure of, he sat up a little, just enough to turn around in order to open the drawer he’d thrown Louis’ note into.

The note was rested on top of all the others, just like Harry had expected, and he took it from the pile, closing the drawer before sinking back down to the floor and letting his legs stretch out in front of him.

He held the index card between his finger and thumb, the words written in cursive across it only visible because of the beam from the street light coming through the kitchen window.

_You’re the dandelion puff in a field of dull grass._

Harry’s lips parted in response to reading that, because somehow, Louis’ notes had gotten more elaborate and Harry hadn’t even noticed.  This was definitely a step up from the first rose he’d ever sent Harry, which had come with a note that read _I really like you and your dimples._

The thought caused Harry to laugh for half a second, letting out one, noncommittal huff of a chuckle before going back to his previous state of pathetic sorrow.

With a weary breath, he shifted onto his side in order to lay against the kitchen floor, folding his arms up under his head for support.  He kept the card on the floor, inches away from his face so that he could still be able to read the words that were on it.

Whilst continuing to possess a sideways view of the world, he noticed a lone ant, making a long journey from one side of the kitchen to the other, and he couldn’t help feeling jealous of that stupid, ungrateful ant.  It had no worries, besides procuring infinitesimal crumbs and trying not to get stepped on.  It didn’t realize how easy it had everything.

Time ceased to matter as Harry laid there, so he definitely didn’t know how many minutes—or hours—had passed before he got a knock at his front door.

With much difficulty, Harry pushed himself up to his feet with a whine, wondering who the fuck it possibly could’ve been that had interrupted his peaceful moment of moping on his kitchen floor.

He shrugged off the stupid blazer as he moved to get to the door, throwing it on the floor without a care.

When he unlocked his door and opened it, he didn’t even offer a reaction when he found himself now standing in front of Louis, a baking pan in his hands as he stared at Harry with sad eyes.

“I heard about what happened,” Louis said, which explained the sad eyes.  “You also never got your cake because of…yeah.  I wanted to make sure you got it.”

Harry looked down at the pan, tin foil spread over the top as the scent of red velvet cake and vanilla icing started to sneak its way into his nostrils.

With a shrug, Harry proceeded to reach out and take the pan from him, offering Louis a halfhearted grin as he held it.  “Thanks.  I’ll enjoy eating this in darkness,” he said, already moving to turn around and close the door.

Louis peeked his head inside however, his voice high pitched and hopeful once he spoke up again.  “Want some company?”

Harry raised one eyebrow, slowly turning back around as he met eyes with Louis.  “I don’t have any light.”

“Why?”

“I didn’t pay for it.”

“Well…” Louis started, playing with his fingers before he shrugged, a grin spreading across his lips.  “That doesn’t bother me.”

Harry tilted his head slightly, trying his best to attempt to understand the man in front of him.  “Why would you want to come in when it’s completely dark in here?”

Louis’ eyes narrowed slightly as Harry continued to wait for a reasonable answer.  He didn’t get one for quite a while, which made sense, because there was _no_ logical reason as to why Louis desired to come inside his home right now.

“Wait—“ Louis started, putting up a finger as he began to back away from Harry’s front door.

Harry blinked confusedly, stepping a foot out of his apartment as Louis continued to retreat.

“I’ll be right back,” was all Louis said before he turned around, moving rather quickly on his feet in order to get to…wherever he was going.

Instead of dwelling on the many perplexing things about Louis and his infatuation with Harry, he instead shrugged, entering back into his apartment and shutting the door behind himself.  He didn’t lock it, _obviously_ , because Louis had said he’d be back.  It was still ridiculous that he’d wanted to come inside, but if that was what he desired…Harry wasn’t going to stop him.  He needed another voice inside the quiet, empty apartment anyway.

He set the pan containing the cake on the counter before resting his elbow next to it, not even attempting to find any way to occupy himself as the flat remained pitch-black, although his eyes had adjusted to most of everything by now.

As promised, Louis _did_ eventually come back about fifteen minutes later, nearly falling through the front door as he pushed it open.  There were five different grocery bags hanging from his hands and dangling from his forearms, and Harry sighed before going over to help him carry them.

“Are these…” Harry asked, reaching into one of the bags as he took them from Louis.  “Candles?”

Louis put the rest of the bags down on the counter with a grunt.  “Yep.  I also brought a lighter.”

Harry now held one of the large scented candles in his hand, eyebrows knit together as he grew exhausted.  “Louis…”

“This one smells like peaches!” Louis said delightedly, pulling one of the candles out of a bag and positioning the lighter upon the wick.

Harry did nothing as he stood there and watched Louis carefully light the candle, his face becoming graced with a dim, warm spotlight.

“Can’t enjoy dessert in the dark, you know?” Louis said, not even turning to look at Harry as he continued to light candle after candle, moving around the kitchen and the living room in order to set them up in different places.

Gradually, the stale, disturbingly familiar scent of his apartment became filled with various pleasant smells, and Harry felt as though he was in a fucking candy land with all the contrasting sweet odors.

Harry’s apartment was still pretty dark when Louis had finished lighting all ten candles, but it was significantly lighter than before, so Harry had no choice but to be grateful.  He allowed himself to give into Louis’ warm smiles and comforting presence as he cut slices of cake for the both of them, and they ended up eating on opposite sides of the counter in the dimness of his apartment.

“I’m gonna be honest,” Harry said at some point, his feet dangling from the chair as he brought his fork up to his mouth.  “I’m not entirely convinced you made this cake yourself.”

Louis’ eyes moved upward, looking up at Harry through his eyelashes as he smirked, a cozy light cast upon the side of his face.    “What do you mean?”

“It tastes amazing,” Harry replied, his mouth now full.

Louis giggled into his sleeve for a few seconds, his eyes shining in the dark.  “Thank you.  I’m a bit of a cook, I guess.”

Harry sucked his teeth as he gave Louis a dramatic glare.  “And this is the first time you’ve baked anything for me?  I’m disappointed.”

Louis laughed some more, seemingly trying to suppress his chortles so they wouldn’t get too loud, and Harry didn’t know why he found that just a tad bit adorable.  “I’ll start baking for you now.  Promise.”

Harry grew smug as he and Louis continued to share comfortable eye contact over the counter, and he’d partly forgotten about the depressing mood he was supposed to be in.  “When do you even find the time to improve your cooking skills?”

“Well…” Louis started, taking a moment to swallow.  “Not much else to do when I’m at home all alone.”

Harry’s eyes became blank for a moment, watching as Louis’ gaze seemed to grow unfocused as he stared at his plate.  “Ah,” he replied.  “Surely you have some friends from work though, don’t you?”

Louis shook his head, a shy grin poking at his lips.  “No, not really.”

Harry was aware that Louis probably hadn’t remembered all that he had expressed to Harry while he was drunk, which was why he was being so vague about it all.  Harry was simply thankful that he didn’t have to ask him to elaborate, but he could admit, he felt just a little sneaky because of the fact that he knew exactly why Louis didn’t have any real friends, and how big of an emotional toll it was taking on him.

Harry dug his fork into the icing of the cake as he rose his eyebrows.  “That’s gotta suck,” was all he said, before stuffing his cheeks with more dessert.

Louis didn’t offer a reply, instead choosing to nod in agreement as he neatly sliced a piece of his cake away.

“Why do you live in such a big place then?” Harry asked, cutting into the silence.  “Doesn’t all that room just make you feel…lonelier?”

Louis shrugged, forcing another grin to offer to Harry as he drummed his fingers against the counter top.  “It’s mostly for family visits, so that I have extra rooms and beds whenever my sisters or my mum come over.  It’s also for any other relatives who need somewhere to crash.”

Harry fixed wide eyes on Louis, although the man remained nonchalant, as though it wasn’t wild that he’d essentially bought a home just to make sure everyone he loved would have a place to stay if they needed it.

Harry sighed with exhaustion as he dug into his cake, because he was _sick_ of Louis being so endlessly warmhearted.

“I hate how sweet you are,” Harry said matter-of-factly, causing Louis’ face to brighten, uplifting the ambiance surrounding them.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Louis replied proudly.

They spent most of the night doing nothing but eating cake, letting their legs swing from the barstools, and talking.  This wasn’t a _rare_ , drastic turning point in Louis and Harry’s relationship, because it wasn’t like they’d never talked before.  They’ve always shared conversations with each other, whether they were casual, or borderline heavy.  That was very much one of the reasons Harry hadn’t let him down bluntly; he actually _knew_ Louis, and for the most part, he enjoyed his presence.  He would definitely lose that vital innocent piece of his life if he ever shooed Louis away, and that wasn’t what he desired.

Once Louis was up on his feet, washing both of their plates (even after Harry told him numerous times that he could just dump them in the sink so that Liam could get to them when he came back), Harry’s mind slowly slipped back into its previous state, the lack of conversation now starting to rid him of a distraction.

“You alright there Harry?” Louis asked with a crooked smile as he wiped his hands dry with a paper towel and stepped away from the kitchen sink.

Harry glanced up at him questioningly, not even realizing how his lips had been fixed into a frown.

“You look like you’ve seen death,” Louis continued, literally _skipping_ back over to the counter before sliding into the seat next to Harry, closer than when they’d been eating their cake.

Harry sat there for a moment, staring at his hands that were joined on top of the table, the light from a nearby candle starting to waver as it seemed to be dimming out.

“I just can’t help feeling like this is all my fault,” Harry said, his voice significantly softer than it’d been the whole night.

It seemed Louis’ giddy aura died down as he kept his eyes set upon the side of Harry’s face, his breaths shallow.  “You can’t possibly be to blame for your job letting you go.”

“In a way, I feel like I am,” Harry replied, now looking down at his lap.

“That’s ridiculous—“

“Everything,” Harry started, reaching out and playing with a spoon that’d been left on the counter.  “Everything I’ve done, from dropping out of uni, to leaving home.  Probably even the fact that I stole that one girl’s juice box in second grade—all of it has led my life to come to this point.”

He briefly closed his eyes once he felt one of Louis’ hands gently rubbing at his shoulder as they both sat there in easy quietness.

“I wish you didn’t feel that way,” Louis started, his voice practically a whisper as he leaned in closer to Harry.  “I wish they didn’t fire you so you wouldn’t be thinking so badly about yourself.”

“But I _should_ be,” Harry said sharply, turning to look at Louis.  “I fucked everything up on my own, and I have no one else to blame but myself.”

Louis opened his mouth uselessly, his eyes overbearingly sympathetic as Harry stared into them.

Harry shook his head, knitting his eyebrows together as he shifted his eyes back to his lap.  “I’m sorry I’m—I shouldn’t be letting out all my ugly emotions on you,” he said exhaustedly, face now hard and cold as he kept his gaze away from Louis.  “No one wants to hear—“

“Harry…” Louis started, his hand that had originally been on Harry’s shoulder brushing down in order to gently grip his bicep.  “ _I_ want to hear.  If there’s ever a time where you feel like no one will listen, just know that I _always_ will.  I’ll drop everything for you.”

One side of Harry’s lips twitched for a second, and he chose to disregard the rush of heat that seemed to surge through his entire body, coming to an end at his fingers and causing them to feel tingly.

Harry laughed emotionlessly, looking up to the ceiling for a moment.  “I don’t even know why you…” he took a steady breath, attempting to carefully choose his words.  “We’re complete opposites.  You’re afraid of messing up, and it seems that’s what I’m best at.  I can’t even understand why you’re so into me.”

For a moment he thought he’d said something wrong, because he couldn’t hear Louis breathing anymore, but when Harry turned to look at him, it appeared that he was just in deep thought.  A lingering silence took its place in the kitchen as they remained in each other’s bubble, the scent and limited lighting of the candles starting to make Harry’s mind hazy.

Louis suddenly sat back in his chair, motioning for Harry to come forth, and Harry knew this gesture all too well.

It was something they did—only _twice_ before—when Harry was exceptionally sad and more than willing to participate in a friendly cuddle.  The last time had been when Harry had found a lost dog, named it Dinn Wixie, and then Liam had forced him to give Dinn Wixie back to his owners after a whole _month_ of keeping him.  Louis had been putting in extra effort to cheer him up, and, just like now, he’d offered himself up for a cuddle, which Harry had eagerly accepted.

Harry slid out of his chair and into his Louis’ lap, both of his legs dangling off of one side as he brought his arms up to wrap around Louis’ neck.  He let his head rest on Louis’ shoulder as Louis wrapped his arms around his waist, simply providing a gentle contact without pulling him in.

This was a completely _platonic_ thing that they did, no matter what Zayn said.

Harry’s words were muffled against Louis’ jacket as he whined.  “I feel so shitty.  I have nothing going for me.”

“Don’t say that, love…” Louis said, his words tender and soothing in Harry’s ears, almost like a lullaby.  He brushed his fingers against Harry’s back with a lulling softness as he spoke.  “You’re magnificent, Harry.  I’ve never met anyone like you before, and I promise you’re going to blossom into the most beautiful young man the world has ever seen.”

Harry let his fingers explore their way through Louis’ hair as he swallowed, continuing to bury his troubles into the man’s clothing.  “Louis…”

“Listen,” Louis started, an edge suddenly coming into his voice that grabbed Harry’s attention.  “I know…I know that this whole _thing_ will most likely never happen between us…”

Harry’s body stilled completely, his face continuing to rest in Louis’ shoulder as the man took a deep breath.

“And trust me, I’m trying my best to slowly let this go,” Louis said, struggling to get the words to come out of his mouth.  “But…sometimes I just feel like you don’t understand how breathtaking you are.  _Someone_ needs to tell you all of these sweet things, and it drives me mad knowing that no one does.  That’s why I do it.”

Harry picked up his head a bit, just enough to hear Louis more clearly as he continued to talk quietly.

“You’re not like everyone else, Harry.  You’re the dandelion puff in a field of dull grass.”

Harry slowly pulled back from Louis’ shoulder, his arms still wrapped around the back of the man’s neck as he blinked at him, almost dazedly, due to the fact that he couldn’t believe this was an actual moment, and he wasn’t dreaming.

“That’s what you put on the rose you gave me today,” Harry whispered.

Louis’ smile lit up the night, eyes grandiose and twinkling as they gazed at Harry.  “Yeah.  You still read them?”

Harry nodded.  “’Course.”

Their faces were close—there was probably a mere two inches between them, but they still continued to hold each other’s eyes, as though the moment would collapse if they averted their attention.

“Smiles,” Louis started, reaching out and touching one of Harry’s curls with soft fingers.  “You’re hilarious, you’re cute, and you’re _special_.  You’ve managed to make it this far all on your own, and that’s what truly matters.”

As Louis continued to radiate light from within with his gentle smiles, not a trace of amusement was on Harry’s face as he stared back at him.  He couldn’t bring himself to laugh, or smile, or even say a _peep_ as Louis continued to fucking stare at him like he was the best thing in world.

Louis brought his voice to a lower level, every letter delicately floating out of his mouth like feathers.  “You’re everything.”

Suddenly, the space between them, a bit less than two inches now, was becoming too much.  Louis kept looking at him with those damned soft eyes that seemed to be _sparkling_ from the unsteady light of the candle that was sitting on the counter just a few feet away.

Harry did his best to shut out his mind and let his body take the wheel as he moved forward, so incredibly slow as Louis’ breaths came to a complete halt.

When their lips touched, Harry was immediately met with the realization that, fuck, he’d just kissed him.  He’d just _kissed_ Louis, and the thought alone was enough to make him end whatever was going on altogether.

But instead, the plush softness of their lips joining with one another encouraged Harry to go in again, this time gently sucking Louis’ lips into his own, growing slightly worried of the fact that he hadn’t heard Louis exhale in quite a while.

He caressed the side of Louis’ face, palm rested against his jaw as the man’s fingers splayed over his back, now starting to pull him in closer as their mouths began to fall in sync with one another.

Harry couldn’t remember the last time he’d kissed anyone this softly, goosebumps forming upon his arms with every hesitant touch of Louis’ lips, the reluctant way he subtly tried to bring Harry in.

Once Louis let out a low, gentle hum reminiscent of a _moan_ , Harry fully immersed himself in the kiss, leaning forward and burying his hands in Louis’ hair so that he could kiss him as deeply as he desired.

He felt the tips of Louis’ fingers against the back of his neck, gently curving around it in order to bring him in, and Harry seemed to melt into it as he let his tongue faintly brush against Louis’, as if asking for permission to taste him.  He felt he was granted all access when Louis opened his mouth a bit more, and within a few more seconds, the kiss turned from slow and sweet, to impatient and deep.

Harry’s breath hitched in between kisses, one of his hands fisting the collar of Louis’ jacket and jerking him forward as their mouths fully engulfed one another.

“Fuck,” Harry breathed, stumbling backward because of how harshly he’d pulled Louis into him.  They both completely slid off of the stool they’d been sitting on, Harry’s back now pressed against the counter as they continued to entangle their lips.

Through the wild hurricane of their mouths, the uneven breaths, and the curses Harry kept hissing into the air, Louis continued to remain compliant, touching Harry with light hands that didn’t want to overstep any boundaries, and the sweetness of it all was driving Harry _mad_.

He couldn’t stop thinking about how sweet Louis was as they kissed, Louis’ hands taking their position back on top of Harry’s ass (probably because he’d picked up on the fact that Harry loved having his ass grabbed).  It was almost as though he couldn’t get enough, lust completely taking over him as he locked one of his legs around the back of Louis’ waist.

Harry bucked his hips upward, Louis not holding back in letting out a genuine moan of satisfaction at the overwhelming friction.

When Louis hooked one of his arms around Harry’s leg, taking a hold of the kiss and moving a few feet over to the kitchen table, Harry had absolutely no control over how eager he was.  Louis was this pure, innocent soul at most times, and then there was this _other_ Louis, the Louis that Harry hadn’t even discovered until recently, that got aggressive when he was pushed just a little bit more, and it was so fucking sexy that Harry couldn’t even remember how to breathe.

He hoisted Harry up by both of his legs, getting him on top of the kitchen table as Harry took Louis’ bottom lip between his teeth, already moving to get Louis’ jacket off.

As they continued to kiss almost violently, hands blurring with quickness as they worked to get each other’s clothes off, Harry was fifty percent sure they’d probably knocked over a candle in the process of their wild tornado of movement, along with many other household appliances.

The sound of a small plate crashing onto the ground and shattering did nothing to distract them as Harry allowed Louis to pull his shirt up and over his head.  Harry was now shirtless, Louis’ jacket was off, and the collared shirt he’d been wearing underneath was practically dangling off of his shoulders, completely unbuttoned and exposing his sweaty torso.  Louis looked absolutely irresistible like this, which reminded Harry that Louis was, obviously, a highly attractive man.  He was a highly attractive, mature, corporate man, who also got red cheeked when Harry as much as said “hi” to him, left roses at Harry’s door every Sunday, showed up to his shitty job at the food court just to talk to him, and _holy shit_ —

“Fuck me,” Harry hissed in between kisses, before going back in, pulling Louis down with him as he laid back against the kitchen table.

There were still many clothing items they needed to get off, and Louis probably wanted to say a few things, but their lips seemed to have trouble detaching from one another.  It was as though Harry’s mouth had been so deprived of a genuine, real kiss from someone who mattered, and now he wasn’t going to stop until his lips were numb.

“Really?” Louis asked, a whisper against Harry’s lips before diving back in, their legs entangled as Harry continued to rut his hips upward.

Harry did nothing but nod, hands against Louis’ waist, keeping him close as their hips moved vigorously against each other.

“Yeah…um,” Harry started, their breaths heavy as he moved his hips a bit more aggressively, Louis letting out a bold “ _oh_ ” into Harry’s shoulder.

Harry tried to clear his mind a bit in order to remember what he was supposed to be saying.  “The…the cabinet.  Top shelf.  Mug,” he started, hissing when he felt Louis kiss the side of his jaw.  “Sex stuff.”

Louis didn't let a second pass before he was going over to the cabinet where the cups were placed, not even taking a moment to judge Harry for keeping sex necessities in his kitchen for convenience.

He couldn’t help pressing his hand down against his growing hard-on as Louis found the mug, because yeah, he’d experienced many hookups in his lifetime, but none of them had ever made him feel quite this…excited.

Louis came back over, nearly panting as his eyes now held a hunger that he was struggling to contain.  “You sure?” he asked, lube in one hand, a condom in the other.

Harry answered by sitting up and closing the space between them with a tug to Louis’ collar, joining their lips without an air of doubt left in his bones.  He even worked to get the lube spread over Louis’ fingers, growing impatient with every second spent _not_ having the man’s careful fingers inside of him.

When Louis finally got a hand down his pants, his other arm fully curving around Harry’s back and keeping their bodies pressed against each other, Harry shuddered with pleasure, tightening his grip in Louis’ hair.  He mouthed at the man’s neck as his eyes fluttered shut to the feeling of slick fingers pressing against his hole, which was something he hadn’t felt in so long.

He gasped when Louis finally inserted his finger, the strange sensation almost comfortingly familiar to Harry as he held onto him with shaking hands.

“Okay?” Louis breathed, his wobbly tone of voice making it clear that this was overwhelming for him.

“Fuck yeah,” Harry moaned, moving down against Louis’ finger as he rested his chin on his shoulder.

It wasn’t long before Louis was inserting a second finger, moving in and out of Harry at a controlled, steady pace that was causing him to grow impatient.  Harry’s breath caught in his throat as Louis began to curl his fingers just a bit, his grip tightening in the man’s hair and his downward hip movements starting to grow more rigorous.

“Sh-shit, _yes_ ,” Harry moaned, much louder than he was even prepared for.  He was beyond grateful Liam wasn’t home, because the man had a _very_ strict rule about getting too loud with hookups in the apartment.  With every whimper and hum that flew out of Harry’s lips, he was sure he’d broken that rule long ago.

It seemed that Louis was growing just as impatient as Harry was, because after he added a third finger, his movements started to become relentless as he moved in and out of Harry, his breaths picking up.

Harry was nearly pulling out Louis’ hair as the man began to curl his fingers up a little more, brushing right against his sweet spot and causing his mouth to fall open.  He took Louis with him when he fell all the way back against the table, his hips moving uncontrollably and his jaw completely slack.  All of his rational senses seemed to shut off as he tugged at Louis’ hair, nearly ripped the material of his shirt as he pulled him into his body, rode his fingers as though his life depended on it, and continued to fully let go of all his contained moans of pleasure.

“ _Aahh,”_ Harry moaned—pretty much _shouted—_ as Louis continued to brush his fingers against his spot perfectly, his movements quick and erratic.  He pulled Louis all the way into his neck as he lost himself in the feeling, his eyebrows now knit together as he hugged his legs tight around Louis’ hips.  “God, _yes!”_

When Louis thrust his fingers inside with more force, going exceptionally deeper than before and causing lightning bolts of satisfaction to shoot through Harry’s body, Harry came undone, clenching around Louis as he let out one last, enthusiastic, almost high-pitched moan.

Louis’ pace slowed down to a gradual stop as Harry struggled to release the tension from every part of his body.  His mind was still spinning with heat, his lips bitten, and eyes hazy with stupor, but he brought his breaths to a calm state as they both remained there, sweaty against each other.

After Harry spent a significant amount of time blinking himself back to life, he came to realize what had just gone down.

He’d actually come before they’d even gotten to the actual _fucking_.

He’d actually come before they’d even gotten to the actual fucking, and it was because of _Louis._   Harry had done this with fucking _Louis Tomlinson,_ and now he knew what his delicate, heavenly fingers felt like inside of him, and…

“Jesus,” Harry breathed, realizing he hadn’t let go of Louis’ head and finally releasing him.

He felt beyond worn out, and he was fairly certain that he needed quite a while to recover from the intensity of the orgasm he’d just had.  He couldn’t help feeling bad for Louis at the fact that he couldn’t hold himself together enough to actually get to the _sex_ part of sex.

Harry slowly shifted in order to sit up, Louis pushing himself off of him as well, although he seemed a bit fatigued, and Harry had no idea why.  He’d probably exerted a lot of his energy toward pleasing Harry, most likely.

Harry was still struggling to catch his breath when he spoke.  “Do you—“

“No.  I’m…” Louis breathed, his face going a faint red as he looked down and shook his head.  “I already…kinda…”

Harry’s narrowed, dazed eyes finally grew wide as he stared at Louis, bracing one hand on the man’s shoulder.  “Oh…you…?”

“Yep,” Louis replied, his voice far too quiet and harmless for Harry’s liking.  “I guess…that—that did it for me.”

Louis’ eyes glistened when he brought them back up to look at Harry, and Harry couldn’t resist biting down on his bottom lip, because _fuck_.  He’d pushed Louis over the edge just by holding onto him and moaning like an animal.

“Oh,” was all Harry offered as a reply, retracting his hand from the man’s shoulder and beginning to do his pants back up.  He slowly slid himself down from the kitchen table, feeling exceedingly unsure about what the actual hell was going on between them and why neither of them were putting a stop to it.  He was also confused on why he, _himself_ , held no desire to put a stop to it.

“I…” Harry started, speaking gently as he zipped his pants back up, his body continuing to remain coated with sweat.  “I have a…I obviously have some cleaning to do,” he said, gesturing at himself as Louis took a step back.

Louis nodded meekly, joining his hands behind his back as his eyes continued to hold that lustful spark that Harry was beginning to grow attached to.  “I understand.”

“…yeah,” Harry replied, for lack of anything else to say.  His eyes lingered on Louis as he took two steps back toward the hallway, finding it hard to tear his gaze away from him.

“I’m gonna go shower,” Harry said, before turning around, intent to wash himself off, as well as whatever had just happened between them.

“Alone?”

One of Harry’s eyebrows rose as he paused in his tracks, slowly turning around to find Louis, the unsure, shy expression on his face now replaced with something much more smug.  He dropped his hands to his sides as he stared at Louis, three feet of space in between them that were _definitely_ pushing it.

A corner of Harry’s lips curved upward as he held eye contact with Louis, wondering how he’d never noticed how fucking _devious_ the man standing in front of him was.

“You fucking…evil cupcake,” Harry said exhaustedly, turning around as he started back toward the hallway.  “C’mon.”

Not a millisecond was wasted before he heard Louis’ footsteps following behind him.  “I’ll bring candles!” he said delightedly, causing Harry to shake his head and try to bury his smile into his shoulder.

 

~*~

 

“So,” Harry started, pulling his sweatpants up around his hips.  His room was lit up by a single vanilla-scented candle that cast a gentle glow upon all that surrounded it.

“So?” Louis echoed, Harry barely catching the way he rose his eyebrows as he pulled Harry’s hoodie on over his head.  He was wearing one of Harry’s joggers, which already hung off of him like a drape, and now he looked even more ridiculous with the gigantic hoodie.  He looked completely different in this setting, with his wet messy hair, flushed skin, and comfortable clothes, and Harry wasn’t afraid to admit that he was digging it.

“We are going to act like this never happened,” Harry continued, taking slow steps toward Louis as he motioned between them.

The cheeky look left Louis’ face as he stared at Harry, different shadows moving upon his cheeks as the candle light faltered.  His lips parted from one another, as though he hadn’t been expecting Harry to say that, which was absurd.  This was _not_ going to be a thing that they would continue to acknowledge.

Finally, after what seemed like hours of Harry staring at Louis and hoping he understood, Louis blinking at him through almost sleepy eyes, Louis nodded his head, looking off to the side and scratching at his hair.

“Okay,” he replied, small.

Harry pressed his lips together tightly, nodding, before going over to the single candle on the dresser and blowing it out, causing the room to become consumed by darkness.

He got into his bed, motioning for Louis to join him once he noticed the man standing there, twiddling his thumbs.  “Get in.  I refuse to sleep alone in this flat for another night.”

Louis seemed to break out of his mildly confused state as he smiled at Harry, coming over to get under the end of the blanket that Harry had raised in the air for him.

“Is that really the reason?” Louis asked, his tone teasing as they both shifted to get comfortable underneath the bed sheets.

“Yes.  Quit being cheeky,” Harry grumbled, turning around so that his back faced Louis.

“If you want me to sleep with you, just say it,” Louis said with a giggle, scooting up until he was right behind Harry.  He wrapped his arms around Harry’s waist, tugging him close until their bodies were snuggled comfortably against each other.

Harry’s eyes closed as he continued to grin, his dimple deep and evident.  “How did you know I was the little spoon?” he asked, caressing Louis’ forearms as the man continued to hold him.

“I can tell just by being around you,” Louis whispered in his ear.

“Sure,” Harry laughed, shrugging Louis away while still attempting to get closer to him.

Louis buried his face in Harry’s shoulder, and they fell into comfortable, tired silence as they shared the stressful-turned-peaceful night with one another.  Harry had all the reasons in the world to be in a state of worry and self deprecation, but somehow, he couldn’t bring himself to care about any of those things anymore as he concentrated on the feeling of Louis close against him, stroking gentle fingers over his tummy as he breathed gently.

The silence was broken when he felt one of Louis’ toes tickling against his calf, causing him to let out a chuckle.  “Stop it,” he giggled, attempting to halt Louis’ movements by wrapping a leg around his ankle.

“Want me to stop?” Louis asked, managing to escape Harry’s grasp as he began to wriggle his toes against his skin again.

“Yes,” Harry said, laughing innocently as their legs began to lazily wrestle one another.

“I will…” Louis started, finally pausing his movements as he leaned forward a bit, now practically leaned over Harry.  Harry turned slightly on his back, his face meeting Louis’ as the man now stared down at him with dark eyes.  “If you’ll give me one last kiss.”

Harry rolled his eyes, even though he knew the request didn’t bother him one bit.  He didn’t move when Louis leaned down into him, and their lips met with one another once again, now much more gentle than before, when they’d been desperate to devour each other.  Louis pulled back after a few seconds, the tiniest of grins upon his lips as he pressed his forehead against Harry’s for a moment, and then he got back into his position, right where he’d originally been, cuddled behind Harry.

Harry turned back around as well, his eyes closing with ease as he got comfortable again, and it didn’t take him much longer to fall into an accompanied, tranquil sleep, their ankles hooked around one another.

 

~*~

 

Harry’s day had turned out to be a rather swell one, because the sun was shining, flowers were blooming within the trees, his lights at home were back on, and he’d just gotten back from a job interview that didn’t go half as bad as he thought it would’ve.  Although he would’ve enjoyed working at a place that wasn’t a movie theatre, open twenty-four hours a day, if he actually got the job, he wasn’t going to complain.

He continued his stroll down the sidewalk as he made his way toward his flat, hands settled in the pockets of the tan chinos he’d gotten from Goodwill, and a folder tucked under his arm that he’d brought along with him to the interview.

He tried his best to remain just as positive as he walked up the steps to his apartment, but he couldn’t help feeling despondent from the fact that Liam still wasn’t back.  He was only supposed to be out for _two_ days, but obviously, those two days had turned into six.  If Harry didn’t know any better, he’d think Liam had just moved out without telling him, and if that _was_ the case, Harry hoped the man knew that he would get hunted down and ambushed at his new home.

He put his key into the lock, taking note of how his doormat was _still_ void of any certain…thing.  Not that he cared, but the fact that nothing was there was noticeable, especially since he’d gotten so used to…whatever.

With a harsh push, he got the front door open, stumbling inside as he let out an exhausted grunt.

“Harry!” was what he heard as he was turned around, working to lock the door.

His head immediately twisted the other way once he heard his name, coming from the familiar, sometimes irritating voice he’d grown so accustomed to.  Right now, Liam’s voice sounded like nothing other than heaven to Harry’s longing ears.

“Liam!” Harry yelled, running up to where the man was in the kitchen and fully jumping into his arms.  Liam was entirely prepared for it, holding Harry’s legs up as Harry wrapped his arms around him, burrowing his smiles into the crook of his neck.  “You’re finally back.”

“Yep,” Liam replied, spinning around a little before putting Harry down.  “It’s nice to see you haven’t burned the place down.”

Harry punched his shoulder, absolutely beaming as Liam smiled back at him.  “I know how to handle myself while living alone.”

“Yet you still couldn’t bother to do any of the dishes,” Liam replied with an eye roll, rounding the kitchen counter in order to start toward the living room.

Liam proceeded to tell Harry about how everything went, and Harry, as always, nodded in understanding, even though most of it was hard to follow.  He was just glad that Liam got to be involved in something he loved; that he’d worked diligently hard through _all_ those years of school just to be able to do something that he was passionate about, and although Harry teased him for it constantly, it was times like these where he was reminded of how jealous he was of him.

“So…what about you?” Liam asked, bringing his mug up to his mouth as he laid on the couch, rested opposite Harry.  He suddenly looked less casual and more sneaky, as though he _knew_ something, which didn’t sit well with Harry.

Harry grinned dumbly as he laid across from Liam, softly kicking at his foot.  “What about me?”

“What have you been up to?”  With the way the man’s lips twitched on one side with a devious mien, Harry was certain Liam had probably caught onto something.

Harry narrowed his eyes for a moment, his fingers suddenly becoming bored and feeling the need to touch each other, or his shirt, or the couch cushions underneath him.  He pursed his lips as he pretended to think about it, looking up for a moment.  “…nothing, really.  I might have a job at the movie theatre a few blocks down.”

Liam tilted his head towards Harry, taking a long sip out of his mug as he held unmoving eye contact.  He swallowed thoroughly, still annoyingly smug.  “That’s all?”

“Yes.  What else do—“

“There are loads of scented candles stuffed in the hallway closet.”

Harry opened his mouth, closed it, and then opened it again, at a pure loss for words as Liam continued to just fucking stare at him like he knew everything in the world.

Liam finally broke into a huge smile, teasing Harry as he spoke.  “You got _busy,_ didn’t you?”

“No, I—“

“I didn’t know you were so _intimate,_ ” Liam continued, now appearing to be talking to himself.

“I’m _not_ —“

“I can’t believe you actually bought _candles_ for a hookup—“

“That’s not why Louis bought them, for god’s _sake_!” Harry exploded.

Liam finally quieted, setting his gaze back to Harry, and slowly, Harry became aware of all the ways in which he’d just exposed himself in a few words.

“Louis?”

Harry nodded solemnly, looking down at his lap and feeling thoroughly defeated by the intuitive nature of Liam Payne.

“Louis was here?” Liam asked incredulously.  “With candles?  And you’re expecting me to believe you guys didn’t hook up?”

“Well…” Harry began scratching behind his ear as his eyes went blank on a section of the couch cushion.  “We…That wasn’t how it _started_ …”

Liam’s eyes grew exponentially, gleaming with enthusiasm as he sat up on the couch.  “You guys _did_ …”

Harry finally shot his gaze back up to Liam, looking at him directly.  “You know what?  Shut up, Liam.  You think you know everything, but you don’t.”  With that, he pushed himself up and off of the couch, stalking toward the kitchen in order to find something to eat.

“You guys got together, oh my _god_ ,” Liam practically squealed, still smiling at Harry from the couch.

Harry clenched his jaw as he rummaged the pantry for non-expired treats.

“You _like_ him!” Liam yelled with joy.  “Fuck, you actually _like_ him!”

“No I don’t!” Harry shouted, slamming the pantry door shut as he crossed his arms.  “Since when does having sex with a person equate to having feelings for them?”

“Since you lit candles for it.”

“I didn’t—“ Harry cut himself off with a frustrated groan, running his hands through his hair as Liam continued to fix that dumb, knowing look on him.

“Just go jack off to Zayn’s Instagram page or something!” Harry yelled, before turning on his heel and stalking towards his bedroom, making sure to shut the door so he wouldn’t have to continue to hear Liam’s guffaws of amusement.

He buried his moans of exhaustion into his bed sheets, feeling overwhelmed with agitation at the fact that Liam was such a fucking know-it-all.  Liam _was_ the ultimate geek and he kept on top of his studies like no other, but with real life situations like these, the man didn’t know a damn thing, and Harry wished he’d stop acting like he did.

Harry did _not_ like Louis.  Really.  He’d spent so much time letting the man down easily, and he refused to believe that there had been no rationale for that.  He refused to believe that he’d wasted _months_ not accepting Louis’ affection when he’d had feelings for him this whole time.  The mere thought was completely absurd.

Sure, Louis was the only guy that had ever performed romantic gestures for him, or remembered little, insignificant things he’d said long ago, or told him cute stuff about himself that he didn’t even know, or was so fucking endearing and immensely attractive at the same time that Harry sometimes lost control of his entire body—

No.  Harry didn’t like him, and that was that.

 

~*~

 

“Liam?” Harry asked.  He had had his head poked out of the front door, the faint brush of the wind causing his strands to tease at his neck.

Liam answered from inside the flat, his mouth full of cereal as he replied.  “Yep?”

“Did you already pick up Louis’ rose this morning?” Harry asked, staring blankly at the empty surface of the doormat.

“Nope,” Liam replied.

Harry pressed his lips into a line, exhaling through his nose as he took a step back and shut the door.  He didn’t hesitate before moving steadily toward his bedroom, his head only slightly hung.

Liam tilted his head in question.  “Where are you going—“

“I need to take a nap.”

“It’s twelve in the afternoon—“

“I swear to _god_ Liam,” Harry snapped, which shut the man right up as he went back to peacefully eating his bowl of whole grain flakes.

This was the second Sunday that Harry had gone outside to find nothing in front of his door.  It was the _second_ week in a row that Louis hadn’t left a rose for him, and, not that Harry cared, but _why_?  Since it had been a consistent occurrence for several weeks now, the fact that it wasn’t happening anymore threw everything off balance, and Harry wasn’t in a sane state of mind anymore.  He _needed_ this constant declaration of affection in order to survive; he was pretty sure it was what got him through his week.  It reminded him that, through all the bullshit he had to experience on a daily basis that reminded him of why he was a disappointment, there was a guy who still did cute shit like that, which meant that Harry couldn’t have been all _that_ horrible.

He most definitely did _not_ express these feelings of concern to Liam, because the man couldn’t even control himself at the mere mention of Louis’ name nowadays, so he took it upon himself to vent to the most chill, laid back guy on earth.

He was sat with Zayn while the man was on his lunch break, and they were across from one another as Harry let out his frustration in the middle of the food court.

“I see…” Zayn had replied, long after Harry had gotten done voicing his internal turmoil.

Harry picked at his fries, almost becoming worried at how Zayn wasn’t fucking _saying_ anything of value.

Zayn finally reached over, taking one of Harry’s fries, speaking right before he tossed it into his mouth.  “You like him.”

Harry immediately stopped eating his fries altogether, blinking boredly at Zayn as the man’s smirk slowly started to form.  Harry could barely take him seriously with the circular cookie on his head as it was, and now he was looking at him all goofy, adding to the ridiculousness of it all.

“I don’t like him,” Harry replied, before sighing.

“You do,” Zayn replied easily, not even adding a desperate edge to his voice as he said it.  It was as though he was just talking casually, not sending daggers through Harry’s spleen with his lies.  “Just face it,” Zayn continued.

Harry leaned forward, intent to shoot some valid points at Zayn as he spoke with precise sharpness.  “If I like him, then why haven’t I simply given into all of his gestures?  Why haven’t I thrown myself into his arms when I’ve had so many chances to?  Hmm?” Harry asked, now out of his seat and leaning over the table as he gave Zayn a hard look.  “ _Hmm?_   See, you’re wrong.”  After Zayn said nothing in response, Harry hummed with satisfaction, sitting back in his chair and proceeding to comfortably eat his seasoned fries.

“Because you’re scared.”

Harry’s mouth was full when he processed what Zayn had said, and his chewing slowed as he looked at him as though he was the most ridiculous being he’d ever laid eyes on.  He felt he didn’t even need to say anything as he continued to stare at the man like he’d lost it.

“You’re scared, because he’s the mature, stable, sweet guy who you know will be your last,” Zayn continued with a shrug of his right shoulder.

Harry scoffed as he swallowed, already prepared to dismiss Zayn and all of his strange theories.

“Becoming romantically involved with Louis will be your most serious relationship yet,” Zayn said.  “And you don’t think you’re ready for that, but I believe you are.  The proof’s in the way you’re maturing, why you don’t take an interest in casual sex anymore.”

Harry stared at him intensely, almost dissociating from the fact that Zayn was saying all of these… _things_.  Also from the fact that some of them made some sort of _sense_.

“Um…” Harry started, losing his train of thought as he stared off into the distance, his mind racing with the speed of a roadrunner.  He brought one of his fingers up to his lips, just sitting there and practically reevaluating every aspect of his life and why he’d been so oblivious to his own intentions.

Harry messed with the sleeves of his shirt as he continued to stare without focus, now consumed by his inner analyses.  “Maybe…you’re not wrong.”

Zayn chuckled lazily, leaning back in his chair.  “I’m never wrong.”

Zayn’s vanity seemed to jerk Harry awake, and he shook his head back to life, fixing his gaze directly upon Zayn once again.  “Wait—you _are_ wrong.  That’s not true.”

“Sure it isn’t,” Zayn laughed.

Zayn could laugh and snicker condescendingly all he wanted, but it wasn’t going to change the fact that he was wrong.

Harry tried to forget the man’s words for the rest of the week, although it proved itself to be a hard task.

As he was making his strides down the sidewalk and toward his bus stop one morning, he found it especially difficult to do, since he had now reached an entire month without seeing or speaking to Louis.  Had the man simply vanished into the thin air?

He couldn’t lie to himself.  Louis _was_ husband material, more so than any guy he’d ever involved himself with.  The man resembled everything he’d hoped for, and would probably be looking for if he were mature, and stable, and not a loser, and…less scared.

He was just confused, alright?

He furrowed his eyebrows as he kept his eyes on the lines of the sidewalk, beginning to drag his feet a little as he walked.  He figured that, if he _were_ to insert himself into any situations with Louis, it was too late anyway, because the man was clearly done with him.  No more roses, no more poetic love notes, no more surprise visits at work (he was surprised the man hadn’t investigated in order to find out where his new job was yet), no more spontaneous lunches, no more heart shaped pizzas, no more Louis.

He wasn’t afraid to admit that the acceptance of reality saddened him, because more than anything, he appreciated Louis as his friend.  Louis _never_ judged him, no matter how ridiculously pathetic he constantly proved himself to be, and he provided Harry with an additional, innocent face to talk to when he felt the world had given up on him.  Louis was his fucking purest friend, and now he didn’t have him anymore.  He didn’t even know why.

He picked his head up as he approached his stop, having successfully managed to ruin his own day before it had even started.

Now _Harry_ kind of felt like the yearning, heartbroken one, because the last time he’d seen Louis was in his bedroom that night, right before they went to sleep.  The man had been gone in the morning, and that probably should’ve been Harry’s first hint as to how Louis had decided to end their relations.

Harry squinted ahead as he spotted some shining, moving figure headed toward him, and he took the time to actually rub at his eyes for a moment once he realized that it was Louis.  There the man was, wearing a vibrant neon yellow tracksuit that almost hurt Harry’s eyes, and he was jogging right in Harry’s direction.  And Harry hadn’t seen him in a month.

Harry was so caught off guard that he hadn’t even had time to plan what he was going to say as the man began to approach.

Louis seemed to spot Harry too as he grew closer, and his eyebrows rose with glee.

Harry was sure his cheeks reddened as he lifted up a hand in order to wave at the man.  “Hi.”

“Hey,” was all Louis said, and his feet didn’t stop for even half a second as he continued to jog right past Harry.

Harry turned all the way around, his baffled eyes following Louis as the man continued down the sidewalk, quickly growing farther and farther away as Harry stood in the same place.

What the _fuck_?

Louis didn’t glance behind himself even once as he continued his steady jogging, leaving Harry shocked, flustered, and breathless.

Harry slowly turned back around, blinking profusely as he began to continue his own journey and ignore the twinge he was starting to feel prickling within his skull.  Louis had actually _jogged_ past him instead of stopping for a moment to talk to him, and that was fucking _weird_ , but whatever.  What the fuck ever.

 

~*~

 

It seemed that every day Harry tried to distance himself from the situation, he only seemed to sink deeper into it. The more he tried not to think about it, the more he thought about it, and within a week, his brain was drenched with thoughts of Louis, what he was up to, why he wasn’t into Harry anymore, and what the _fuck_ his problem was.

Harry was sunk into his couch on a Wednesday evening, lonely in his apartment as his lap was littered with heaps of Louis’ love notes.  He’d pulled every single one of them out of the drawer he’d stuffed them into, and now here he was, sat with them in his lap—all thirty-eight of them.

Liam had left in the early hours of the morning to go do _whatever_ , Zayn wasn’t replying to his texts of loneliness, and he was off of work, so he made use of his misery by rereading all of the note cards.

“ _My heart swells every time you smile_ ,” Harry read, his tone low and depressing as though he was reading someone’s will.  He picked up another one, reciting it out loud, just as he’d been doing for a long, pathetic amount of time.  “ _Your face doesn’t even compare to a cherub.”_ He flipped to another one.  “ _A day without seeing you is a day wasted.”_  His heartbeat starting to pick up just a little, he flipped to another one, almost frantically. “ _The birds sing in the morning in rejoice of you waking up.”—_ Harry ended up throwing a handful of the notes in the air with a pained groan, becoming swamped with contrasting emotions and intense feelings and a desperation for affection that he didn’t _understand_.

Once he’d sufficiently made a mess of all the pieces of paper, many of them now scattered over the floor, thrown across the couch, two resting on top of his head, he shifted his gaze over to the vase of roses set up on the table next to where he was sitting.  They remained standing in the water, crimson red as they continued to appear just as gorgeous as they’d been when they’d first appeared at Harry’s door.  Each rose was strikingly different, because all of them were newer than the last—Harry could tell which one was the oldest, because it was withered and flaky, a brown color starting to settle upon the petals.  It was beautiful.

Harry threw his head back against the couch, shouting into the void.  “Where _is_ everybody?”

He would’ve _killed_ to have had Louis in order to keep himself company right about now.  It wasn’t even simply because of the fact that he was lonely—he _specifically_ wanted _Louis_ to come barging through his door at that exact moment, arms wide open and ready for Harry to fall into them.

Harry tilted his head a bit as it remained against the couch, and he watched the front door for a moment.

Nothing.

When Harry had said that they were going to act like that night had never happened, he didn’t mean that they weren’t going to talk at _all_.  He didn’t know if that particular statement was the reason why Louis had cut him off completely, and he felt as though he was left in the dark.  Louis had tricked him into thinking that maybe he’d have someone to turn to, to vent to, to _sleep with_ , but now he was gone, just as fast as he’d arrived.  And it hurt.

Harry pushed himself up from the couch abruptly, deciding that he simply wouldn’t take that.  Yes, Louis had meant the world to him and Harry would’ve rather shouted at a baby before ever getting angry at the man, but he was still _Harry Styles_ , and he did _not_ like it when people abandoned him.  Harry was going to hunt the man down and let him know just how disgusting it was that he’d bailed on him, just like he would’ve done if it were Liam or Zayn.

He was down the stairs of his complex and out in broad daylight as soon as he could blink, and he wasted no time in starting in the direction Louis’ building was located.  He always knew he was getting closer to Louis’ living area when old buildings with chipped bricks and rusty railings turned into grand complexes with fountains out in front of them.  He didn’t care that he was now walking down the uppity streets with nothing but his sweatshirt and boxers on and that he was getting a few disapproving looks.

As Harry neared the man’s building, the first thing that caught his attention was a large, white moving truck situated in front of it, practically taking up the entire parking lot.  Harry fully planned on disregarding it as he made his way into the building, stepping into the posh lobby with determined, socked feet.

It was when the familiar face of a certain man with glasses glided past him that he became distracted.

Harry turned around, just as this guy was headed out of the door Harry had come into.  “Niall?”

Niall turned around, and Harry now noticed that the man was holding a box of random household items, which heightened Harry’s puzzlement even more.

Harry knit his eyebrows together in confusion.  “What are you—“

“Coming through!” he heard, from a voice that sounded alarmingly similar to Liam’s.  The voice turned out to, in fact, belong to Liam as Harry whipped his head around to find Liam and _Zayn_ , both holding opposite ends of a heavy crate as they followed behind Niall out of the front entrance of the lobby.

“What are you guys _doing_?” Harry asked incredulously, watching as moving men walked in and out of the lobby with quick feet, not even sparing Harry a glance.  They moved across the floor and disappeared into the elevators, just as _more_ moving men came out of the elevators with additional items.

Harry pushed through the entrance doors, stalking outside as he watched the men help to load the moving truck.

“What the fuck is going on?”  He heard the taunting sound of Zayn snickering under his breath, and he was more than prepared to throw some harsh, profane words at him until he felt a hand tap at his shoulder.

He turned around, his distraught eyes meeting easy blue ones as Louis stood with his hands clasped behind his back.  His hair was slightly ruffled, just the way Harry liked it, and he was wearing a short-sleeved hoodie and loose-fitting pants as he stared at him, as though he’d gotten out of bed not too long ago.  Harry was pretty sure this was the first time in a long time that they’d shared genuine, sincere eye contact, and it was such a breath of fresh air that Harry’d forgotten why he was in a state of near panic.

“What’s _going on_ , is that I got another job offer,” Louis replied with grin, reaching out to poke at Harry’s nose before he made his way past him.

Harry spread his arms wide as he faced Louis, who was now climbing into the back of the moving truck, inspecting different items.  “What does that _mean_?” he asked, approaching the man.

“It means he’s moving,” Niall said as he strolled past Harry, giving him a pat on the back.

Louis hopped down from the moving truck after a while, skipping toward Harry as Harry continued to remain thoroughly displeased at this sudden turn of events.  “What do you mean you’re _moving_?”

Louis blinked, a tiny grin causing his lips to tremble as though he found Harry amusing.  “It means I got a better job offer in another country, and I’m taking it,” Louis replied, before walking past Harry and into the lobby once again, leaving Harry with nothing but the wind of the different moving men as they continued to haul things into the truck.

Harry turned on his heel, intent on not letting this go for one _second_ as he quickly followed behind the man.  “Why would you do such a _stupid_ thing?”  He grew even more irritated as he watched Niall, Liam, and Zayn exit one of the elevators once again, each holding a different box in their hands.  “And why the _fuck_ would you guys help?”

Liam hoisted the box up onto his right shoulder as he grinned.  “I wanted to be neighborly.”

“Louis asked me if I could help,” Zayn replied with a shrug, following behind Liam.

Niall shook his head at Harry, his eyes blank and lifeless.  “I want a raise.”

None of them paused their strides as they exited the building once again, continuing to fill the moving truck, as though Harry’s heart wasn’t cracking and splintering and fucking _tearing_ itself apart.

Harry followed Louis all the way to the elevator as the man got into it, and he placed himself right in the middle of the threshold so that it wouldn’t close.

“ _Why_ , Louis?” he asked, a pleading edge to his voice as his eyes turned soft.

Louis shrugged as he continued to repeatedly press the button in order to close the elevator door.  “I mean, it’s not like there’s anything keeping me here, anyway.”

Harry’s eyes widened disbelievingly.  “ _Everything’s_ keeping you here—“

“Excuse me,” one of the moving men said, shoving Harry aside, before about five of them began to file into the elevator.

Just as this happened, the elevator next to the one Harry was standing at slid open, and out came two more moving men, each holding multiple, stacked cardboard boxes.  Harry didn’t spend any time thinking before moving toward them, intent on stopping any of this from going on any longer.

“No—no one’s moving,” Harry said, struggling to take the boxes from one of the men.  He didn’t budge, continuing to make his way toward the front with no regard for how he was contributing to Harry’s pain.

“ _Guys_ , this is all a misunderstanding,” Harry said, attempting a laugh as he walked up to the moving men that had entered back into the building.  He got in front of them, blocking their path and attempting to prevent them from advancing any further as he put his hands up.  “No one’s moving out, okay?  You guys can just go home now.”

“Sir, we have a job to do,” one of them said with a sigh, moving past Harry.

“Yeah, he’s paying us extra for this,” another one added.

Harry stood there with his lips parted, allowing them to get past him and putting in no more effort to stop it.  Louis had actually paid them _extra_ for this?  The little shit.  Why did he want to move so badly?

Harry was aware he had garnered some curious glances and was probably going to be escorted out of the complex for shouting at people and running back and forth like a madman, but he was _going_ to put a stop to this, no matter how crazy he looked.

He stalked outside, pushing the door open forcefully as he was again met with the traitors he would never again forgive.

“You guys, _stop it!”_ Harry yelled, hoisting himself up onto the moving truck just as Zayn was getting down.  “Stop moving things!  Stop it _now!”_

He leaned down, picking up different items and trying to see how much he could carry in his arms as he hopped down from the truck.  Louis was _not_ going to move, not on Harry’s watch.  Not when Louis was the only guy that brought the innocence out of him that he’d thought he’d lost.  Not when Louis was the last shred of his life that convinced him he mattered.  Not when he’d _just_ figured out the fact that he’d been gone for him all along.

Louis came outside through the entrance, his eyes brightening as he watched Harry struggle to haul items back into the building.   “You’re hilarious, Harry.”

The lack of strength Harry possessed, as well as the fatigue from all of this emotional torment, caused Harry to drop all of the items, facing Louis as the man’s loofas and towels and shampoos now fell to the ground around his feet.

“I’m not trying to be _funny_ Louis!” Harry yelled with exasperation.  He followed the man everywhere he moved, close behind no matter how Louis continued to walk around with quick steps.  “You _can’t_ move!  You just _can’t_!” he shouted, catching up to the man as he was beginning to enter back into the building.  “You can’t move Louis, I _love_ you!”

Suddenly, everything came to a stop; the movers, Louis, Harry’s breathing— _everything_.

Harry blinked at nothing for a moment, taken aback by his own words and the raw, passionate abruptness of them.  He’d felt them so much and for so long that he hadn’t even thought about it before he said it, and now he felt like his world was beginning to completely flip.

Louis was slow when he turned around, and Harry was certain that all eyes were on him, and he didn’t know why.  Yes, Harry had just confessed to the world that he loved Louis, but why did it seem that _everyone_ stopped doing what they were doing?  As though the world had stopped spinning?

Louis’ eyes met his, bright with both the sun shining from beyond and with his own pure elation, and Harry hadn’t cracked a single facial expression since his outburst.

Out of nowhere came slow claps, Niall, Zayn, and Liam entering through the front entrance, all of them with smug looks on their faces.  They continued to actually fucking _applaud_ him, and were soon joined by the rest of the moving men, as well as some of the people lounging about the apartment complex who Harry didn’t even _know_.

Louis gestured in the air, a lopsided grin spread across his face.  “Unload the truck, boys!”

“Finally.  I can go home and take a nap now,” Zayn said, stretching out his limbs as life finally began to continue around them, and everything seemed to fall back into order.

Harry, however, still was _not_ in order, and he swiftly grabbed Zayn by the neck of his t-shirt before he could get away, his eyes remaining dead set on Louis.

“Wait,” Harry started, his expression going from unreadable to serious in a matter of seconds.  He took a step toward Louis as his tone grew sharper.  “You got an _entire_ moving truck, coerced these people into helping you carry your shit, and gave me a _fucking_ heart attack, all so I would admit I love you?”

Louis’ grin was unwavering as he joined his hands in front of himself, nodding at Harry.  “Well…I _can_ say, I was hoping for you to admit that you just _liked_ me,” Louis started, shifting on his feet as Harry came closer.  “But you _love_ me, and now this is sort of like a pleasant surprise.”

“Yeah…um,” Liam started, finally averting Harry’s attention and causing him to shoot his eyes at him.  “Me and Zayn kinda…told him that we were pretty sure you liked him.”   He walked over to Zayn with hesitant steps, messing around with his fingers as he grinned shyly at Zayn.  “I guess you could say we…I dunno…worked together.”

Liam seemed to almost collapse onto the floor when Zayn reached out and gently touched his right hand, bringing it up to his mouth and pressing his lips against the back of it briefly.  “He’s really easy to work with.”

As Liam’s being became completely enveloped in blush and fluster as he giggled helplessly, Harry couldn’t help but continue to grow more irritated.

“You know, I probably would’ve found this much cuter if you guys hadn’t bonded over your mutual desire to _destroy me_ ,” Harry said.  They both seemed unaffected, Zayn continuing to offer Liam all that natural, effortless charm through the easiness of his eyes.

“And _Niall_ ,” Harry said, now directing his attention to the man who stood there, kicking at the ground as though he was bored.  “I didn’t expect much from you, to be honest, but I’m still pissed.”

Niall shrugged with a sigh, Louis starting to giggle into his hand.  This brought Harry to bring his attention back to right in front of him, where Louis was standing there, in all his horrible cuteness, _giggling_ like the devious little monster Harry had discovered him to be.

“And _you_ ,” Harry continued, taking one more step closer to Louis, the man’s eyes almost crossing with how near they were.  “You’re such a fucking…” Harry started, and as stern as his voice was, they both knew that Harry wasn’t about to insult him with hurtful words.  Everyone was aware that Harry was a millisecond from melting like putty with love.

“You’re so fucking _sweet_ , and it’s driven me wild for as long as I can remember,” Harry said, his voice going softer as the gentleness of Louis’ gaze settled into his bones.  He wanted to be angry, but he didn’t know how to be angry and in love at the same time, so he chose to instead just be in love.  It was easier.  “Such a fucking _sweetie pie_ …” Harry said with frustration, shaking his head.

“A sweetie pie that you love?” Louis asked, his voice soft and teasing as he reached down, caressing one of Harry’s wrists.

There was a moment, the truck still being unloaded, Niall continuing to remain in his state of disinterest, Liam swooning over Zayn simply staring at him, and Louis and Harry in their own little world.

“Of fucking course,” Harry replied, allowing their fingers to entangle before he leaned in to kiss the man as gloriously as he deserved to be kissed.

 

 


End file.
